Divinity
by Cunny Haler
Summary: Thorin is not merely the Dwarf set for Bag End. This is the story about Thorin and how he went into the most divine journey to Erebor, his duty and most importantly, himself to become the King we all love and worship. This is about him. This is the start of Thorin's journey.
1. Tidings to the Blue Mountains

Author's Note:

_Divinity _is the word I find for Thorin's journey to Erebor, his duty and most importantly, himself.

I have always loved stories with reasons and good pace, and I think the first chapter is fairly important if the readers are able to think that_ well, this girl knows what she is writing. _in the following chapters. So, the first chapter is mainly about history and, as I said, the start of Thorin's journey. Hope you enjoy it!

The story starts in the settings of the Blue Mountains, where the dwarves made their second home.

Disclaimer: Thorin and other characters are amazing creation of J.R.R Tolkien, while I'm just one of the followers eager to explore their full protential.

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It seemed like a normal day from all aspects in the blue mountains. The dwarfs were minding their own business when a figure came forth from the plain below. It was a white horse so fair that its mane seemed to glow silver in the blazing sun light. It trotted forth from the woods which blended up into gray misty tree-lines. On the surface of their river, Veil, sunlight danced gaily, shimmering thousands pieces of gold and up the river, the rider came. Most dwarfs outside the mountain had gathered around the brink of the lookout, chattering to identify the uninvited rider while some others were already retreating into the doors.

Balin was on the platform when he heard the chaos underneath. The Blue Mountains had no visitors before, not that he knew of. He frowned and walked to the young dwarf on watch underneath the stone pillar. "Go and tell Thorin, lad," his voice was calm but alarming, "tell him that we have a white horse rider." The young dwarf bowed slightly towards this respectable old dwarf. Balin was few of those who lived through the ancient times which were now in the memory of old and folklores of most. The young one was now one of the watch. Their leader, their prince had ordered close watch around their residence even when no one attacked the mountains again and every watchman he trained and examined himself. The young dwarf, Loin, had seen the king for the first time when he became a guard of the blue mountains. He was young and naïve, thinking of his new obligation a new adventure, but his Prince's solemnity changed all that. He never, never forgot that majestic figure ever since.

Loin went instantly into the halls and directly rushed towards the king's chamber. It was situated at the top of the inner construction led up to by a stream of stairs. Loin ran along the intricate stair cases and rocky lanes, nodding towards dwarfs on track. Loin had always been proud of the mountains. He was of the generation after Erebor and had never seen the majestic halls of old, but he had heard enough tales to fully visualize the dusted glory. "ten times of this can't compare with what Erebor was." Balin had tole them proudly, pointing to the main hall while eyeing the east with eyes full of longing. The dwarfs arrived here with nothing literally after the refusal of the elves, their supposed ally. They had one hope, the survived Prince of dwarfs.

After securing the area( the west of the Blue Mountains), the Prince set out to find ways to feed his people. He led twenty dwarfs away to seek food and clothes. They took on work in the very first village that would show them some acceptance. Thorin himself worked as a blacksmith. In his days of labor, he established his reputation as a worthy workforce, but at first no one cared about his line and blood. They mocked him and stared at him. It wasn't until he wielded his own sword at them that they took him respectfully. Swords and knives, axes and daggers, he made blades stronger than any of the man had ever seen. The axes were too heavy for any Man to wield at first, but one blow would be enough to send any creäture straight to his death. His swords became brighter and sharper every time put to use as if the taste of blood unleashed its wrath. The Men treasured even the smallest of the exotic dwarf design. They trampled on him, yet they feared him.

The dwarfs brought back food and clothes enough for survivial and as soon as the dwarf maidens were able to gather fibers and weave, the younger ones capable of hunting and hammering, Thorin abruptly ordered the other twenty dwarfs stop working in the village. He was then all by himself, working harder than anyone could imagine. But the outside environment never agreed with dwarfs and many of them caught disease after exposed to rain and storm. That winter there was a snowstorm and the dwarfs staying still were buried waist-deep. The night was even worse. Dwarfs huddled together around the bonfire they managed, but the warmth was estranged with them. They stretched out their fingers, but all they felt was dumbness. Some ventured to touch the flames, but nothing. All their reflexes had been paralyzed by the severe coldness. Those strong enough and more enduring survived to see the sun again rising, but many could not as stones would never wake up. Thorin was not with his people then. He was putting the last touch to his latest piece, an axe ordered by a local wealthy family. It was supposed to be a gift for his warrior son and Thorin had held some respect to this Man fighter, and so he had put much of his skills into this piece of work. Thorin had casted a thin but heavy blade, bearing some resemblance to his own. He named it Dhazil, Axe of Broad Man. The Dhazil was just cooling off for the last round of hammering to make it resilient when a dwarf from the residence rushed to him. The messenger was so spent and horrified that he couldn't utter a word. Half-dragging him back, Thorin came to the field, with his unfinished armory at hand. They were already burning the bodies. The flames were of an ominous color, bright green framed with crimson. Thorin stood near the fire, feeling himself dead again.

From that day on, the dwarves started to construct their halls. And the Dhazil, which Thorin hewed with burning might, shattered with the breaking of the first stone. A new axe must be forged for the Man warrior, but Thorin would never again do this forgery with much of his heart. His heart lied now with his people. They made their new halls and took on several features of Erebor, but they never could or would surpass its splendor. They were few and weary, but the Blue Mountains were not as tough as the Lonely Mountain and their blades had the strength of their wrath. They collected up the shattered pieces of Dhazil and stowed them safely away as the remembrance of the once relationship between Men and Dwarves. They tolled hard, and at last every dwarf was once again safely inside the mountains.

Loin eyed every pillar he passed with proud and gladness. When he was built enough to labor for his own house, the Blue Mountains were no more than a coarse lair to bring a cold and hard shelter over dwarves' heads. The Mountains were plagued with coldness and dampness and at first fire couldn't drive those away. The less able ones were to stay in the main hall while dwarves strong enough to bear a stone picked up their tools to dig deep into the heart of the Mountains. Never, or hardly, had they seen the dwarf Prince again. He forbade all contact with Men. "keep away from the treachery and foulness." His near ones spread the word. The dwarf Prince was either at the Men village or at the end of every tunnel, or so they said. But the moment Loin saw him, he knew that all the tales about this dwarf was true.

As he thought, he had reached the king's chamber. He pushed open the heavy stone doors and entered the king's hall. It was no more embellished than any other chamber in the mountains. At the end of the chamber was a narrow lookout guarded with thick coarse pillars. The walls were hardly flat. Against the inner most wall set an iron bed. Near the door was a large stone carved table with tall-back chairs. Thorin Oakenshield was seated at the end of the table, studying whatever document he was holding. Loin felt himself uneasy under the solemn air of his king. Thorin looked up with a slight frown on his eye brows. He sighed and straightened himself to his full height. His head slightly tilted upwards.

"What is it, Loin." he asked, his voice deep and patient. Loin drew in a deep breath. He didn't know how or why, but he just couldn't help feeling nervous speaking to his king. "There is a rider approaching the mountains. Balin sent me as to tell you." Thorin's face dropped and a cold air drew around him. His eyes were again cautious and vigilant and he took a few strides towards his own lookout to see who was coming. The rider was now upon them and standing high in his chamber, Thorin could see clearly who the unpleasant visitor was. He frowned. He had heard tales about him, but he had never thought he could be right in front of his doors. He was a legend all over the land, but the tales about his might brought Thorin only more suspicion and vigilance. What business had he over here? Turning his head quickly towards the young dwarf, Thorin spoke fast, "I shall be down there in a moment. Tell the guards be aware and don't open the gate door until I command so. Send everyone inside the mountain." his order was curt but determined and full of the iron strength of the owner. Loin turned running away to the gates to carry our the orders.

After Loin left the room, Thorin focused once again on the figure on the horse coming towards them. Whatever he was after, he would not get it so easily now. Not this time. Thorin took a deep breath and looked one more time to the letter he was reading earlier. It was written in the ancient language of the dwarfs and few could understand the meaning now, but Thorin was one of the few and the content of the letter rendered him confusion. Why had they sent such letter now? At the bottom of the letter were the symbols that were long ago lost, symbols which themselves seemed to mock him. They were the dwarf emblem of Thorin's kindreds over the land. After that dreadful creäture had taken over Erebor, Thorin and his kindreds the direct descendents of Durin were no longer able to unite all the dwarvish lines. They seldom passed any correspondence now, as all were too ashamed and despaired to show their defeat. As for Thorin, he could no longer command his kindreds like he used to. Those glorious days were no more, and Thorin would do anything just to take that back.

He was so shocked when the messenger from the iron mountains knocked upon their gate to deliver the letter that he almost threw the weary dwarf into captivity, thinking he might be of ill intent to again shatter the dwellings of Durin. However, it was the ancient language and the markings that assured him of the authenticity. He had read the letter again and again, trying to decipher the seemingly plain sentences, but he couldn't understand. Specifically, he couldn't recall something that Dain, his closest kin claimed that Thorin had done. Because he didn't. He folded the letter and tucked it safely within his fur coat and went out, with his heavy sword at his side. It was the sword that he had never leave far or behind. It was the one that he wielded on the day the dragon of the north came. It had tasted the fire of Smaug and even today, still glowed with the sorrow and wrath unleashed that day. Thorin unconsciously touched the hilt of the sword to feel the solid leather and the metal beneath. Somehow, he felt that this unexpected visitor had something to do with the letter that troubled him so much.

Just after Loin alarmed the guards, Thorin appeared down from the great stairs. The king was just as he alway was, solemn and mighty, with his sword clasped close to his belt. He had his usual fur coat around his shoulders and his boots thumped heavily on the rock floor. The dwarfs at the gates eyed their king anxiously, not knowing what to do. Balin came forward at his side, his gray old eyes shadowed with anxiety. They exchanged a knowing glance and Thorin gripped Balin's shoulder firmly once. Then he demanded the gate keepers open the gate. The two dwarfs came forth and pulled on the thick stone doors. They were not as majestic as the front gates in Erebor once were, but they were mighty doors nonetheless. They took upon a simple design and the hard lines carved by the strong workers remained took silently of their determination and their hidden wish: they would not stay here forever.

The bright sun light spread from the line between the doors into the hall, dancing upon the ragged blue-gray stones and dimmed all the flaming torches. Outside, the dwarf warriors were clasping tightly at their weapons and hunched around the now dismounted horseman, their eyes fled quickly to their king standing in the middle of the gateway, ready to spring upon the enemy if necessary. Thorin slowly walked forward until he was out in the open with the guards behind him. He never once removed his gaze from his visitor, as he was told millions of times by his grandfather, who had always been able to scare his antagonists off with his fiery eyes. The nature of his visitor no one knew, but he was of the stature of a grown man or an Elf, but by the stairs in front of the gates, Thorin was still able to look down to the "stranger" with his countenance proud as he ever would be. His was of Durin's blood by his beard.

The figure moved slowly towards the ascending stairs, drawing his magnificent horse forward, but he never set a foot even on the lowest step. They stared into each other for a moment before the figure opened his mouth and said in a quiet but strong voice, "I came here for urgent business, Thorin Oakenshield." his eyes were expressionless, but just then Thorin seemed to detect a flash of humor within. Thorin was inwardly taken aback by this familiar address, as if the other person knew him well, but he showed no sign of such surprise on his face. Instead, he stepped forward until the stranger would sure be able to hear every word in Thorin's lowest voice. "What business have you here," he said with great emphasis on each word, "Gandalf the Gray."

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Author: So, Gandalf has visited the Blue Mountains. This is neither mentioned in book nor in film, so I think I can call it something somewhat original. This is due to my own thinking about Thorin's start of his journey and I think it takes a lot for him to begin. The plot might differ from original work.

What do you think of it? Like it? Anyway I thank all of you immensely for patiently reading this long chapter. I hope I give you a complete story, not just a fraction. Please review if you have anything to tell me! All comments are extremely welcome!

Ali


	2. The Twelve

Author's Note: So! The second chapter of my beloved story! In this chapter you'll find Gandalf's experience in the Blue Mountains. I understand that some of you might be expecting some Romance happening, but we'll have to wait a bit more patiently for that! Though I promise one that is nothing like what you've read before! Also I discovered that Tolkien himself had written about Gandalf's earlier experience with the dwarves, but I was not at all aware of this until I was reading again the last pages of my Lord of the Rings, the descriptions of his other books. Anyway. I'm so excited about the history of Middle-Earth! Hope you enjoy the story!

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"What about the letter that you received?" the wizard spoke a bit more loudly and added a sense of pressing into his tongue. "I'm sure you must be wondering about the true meaning of it, and I assure you, that no one except me can solve the mystery for you."

Gandalf spoke slowly as the dwarf turned again, to face him. He could tell that Thorin was alert, his eyes were icy cold and bore an intense distrust and alarm. How did he know about the letter? Thorin was growing more suspicious and now a dread crept upon his heart at his claim. Any others shouldn't be able to know the content of the letter if the letter was not intended for them. Thorin knew that when the letter arrived, it was perfectly sealed in the old time dwarvish method and the messenger had not a bit of weirdness except his panick under Thorin's menace. He couldn't understand. He had imagined the wizard an expert in the ancient languages, but even him could not forge such a letter. Some sentences and words had been too deep in the dwarves themselves to be used by outsiders. Then there was the emblems. How was the wizard able to get the seals? They would never lose something of such importance and it was unimaginable for Thorin to think that the wizard might have stolen them. They were, after all, wizards, not the thieves in the shadow. Unless...he was now truly feeling dreadful.

Unless the wizard had free access to them, which meant that his kindreds were probably all slain now.

Thorin was now calculating how quick he could draw his sword from the sheath to kill this stranger when the wizard seemed to read his mind and spoke again in a reproaching voice, "Do not imagine such menace like yours in every one, Thorin Oakenshield. The matter is pressing and I would not tolerate such unnecessary menace." there was something foreboding in his voice that Thorin thought that the wizard suddenly drew upon him a dark air.

He paused. "Then I shall hear what you have to say."

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Gandalf and Thorin had spoken ever since they were alone in one of the great chambers. No need for a stranger to see the reduced circumstances that they were apparently in. However, as Gandalf was led by Thorin in, he eyed the halls with high respect. They weren't what they had been in Erebor. The embellished pillars were gone and jewels and precious stones set in the wall were no longer to be seen. Not that Gandalf had ever been to Erebor himself, but his knowledge was broad and far. Instead, he saw the unadorned passages and broad stairs. The torches could no longer make the interior of the mountains bright as daylight, but the cold, high flames were enough to show every corner of the halls. The dwarves had made their home once more under the lead of Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. He had not imagine the life of comfort here in the blue mountains, nor had he foresaw the new life the young prince was able to bring to his people. He set his heart. He hoped that he had not been mistaken about Durin's heir.

Guards at the door had heard muffled long conversations and for some time it seemed that one of them was pretty agitated. Then, there was a long silence that they had to fight the urge to rush into the hall to see if things were still in order. At last, their king flung open the door and summoned one of the guards. "call upon the Twelve Others to the Deep Hall at once." the guard's eyes widened, but he bowed deeply and trotted away to carry out his duty. As the guard ran along, he couldn't help thinking secretly: why by his beard would the king suddenly send for the Twelve?

The Twelve was an unofficial name for the first twelve willing dwarves after the battle in Moria. They had all taken the vow to go on quest at Thorin's command to serve Durin's line and follow Thorin to seek their home to death. Thorin had not expect many willing to do so after their painful glory in Moria. They had gone away many and come back few. They lost their king and were troubled by the missing of Thrain, the rightful heir. It wasn't long before they casted their hope upon the young dwarf price, who had proved himself the true heir of Durin in the battle against the defiler, not only in blood but also in heart and skill.

Thorin couldn't rebuild an army ever since. The weak and old were too many, and the remaining potent dwarves were all weary with labor and responsibility. Thorin couldn't let himself make them follow him into danger if he wanted to keep the blue mountains safe. If he wasn't there to take command, he would make sure that at least there were able dwarves to defend the defenseless. Was it not what a homeland meant? Thorin knew well that when he called upon the Twelve, danger and quests were in front of him.

The twelve arrived at the Deep Hall in the core of the mountain as soon as they could manage, each with a heavy heart and obvious worry. They was never home in anywhere other than Erebor, but they had too grown used to the peaceful life over here in the blue mountains. They labored hard, but their life was worthy and meaningful.

Oin and Ori were among the last ones to arrive in the hall and Bombur had still not regained his breath after the fierce racing down into the mountains. "Sorry," they muttered their half-hearted apology and took their seats around the table now boiling with discussion about Thorin's purpose. They had not noticed an extra being in their council until they detected smoke in the room coming from the far corner of the hall. There, sitting in the shadow of the torches was an old man, the unexpected visitor who stirred quite a turmoil within the people. After all had seated, Thorin started with his calm and deep voice.

"Quiet, all of you," he paused long enough to let the noise die down into complete silence. "I have summoned all of you here to tell you a great matter at hand." he reached into his pocket and drew out a folded letter and flattened it against the table. "I have received this letter only days ago when the messenger from Dain came to us." there was rustling sound among the listeners as the name of their distant fellow brightened their eyes. Dwalin, in particular, seemed rather content with this news. "Our guest here,(eyeing Gandalf in the corner), came today to explain the meaning of the letter and it was only moments ago that I myself fully interpret the meaning. Now I trust is the time for our visitor to explain again the whole matter." Thorin shut his mouth, in no desire to explain so fully anything. As the company saw, the gray figure rose and came over to the table and took his seat. He carefully eyed every dwarves around and started to explain.

"months ago I started my visit to all main dwarf dwellings over the land, including your closest kin, Dain of the Iron Mountains. I managed to convince them that Thorin was gathering a council to discuss the matter to take back your homeland and your family's legacy." there was immediately anxious glances casted around the table, some alarmed, some agitated.

Gandalf had to raise his voice to recapture all of their attention, "Of course, Thorin himself had not issued such plan and it was entirely my fiction work." Gandalf glanced around to discover the disbelieving eyes all focused on him. He knew it wouldn't do with so simple an explanation.

"dwarves are hard to convince, I'll admit, but you are not as unreasonable as you think." more agitated voices. "I have my own ways to convince them of the authenticity of my tidings. It would only take a token." he said mysteriously. "but that is not the matter.

"I asked Dain to associate with the others and send a messenger to deliver the letter here as an answer. Dain, not surprisingly, was not so keen on the plan to take back the Lonely Mountain, but he had agreed to a council of Thorin. And so here the letter is and, most unfortunately, made Thorin troubled. That was the reason that I came here to tell Thorin of this."

"But what is the meaning of this, if uncle did not have such a plan, yet." A black-haired young dwarf with keen eyes questioned boldly.

Gandalf half-laughed, "Because he will, Kili." Adopting a more solemn air, Gandalf spoke without the humor he displayed just seconds ago, "The dragon had not been seen for years and the tidings of it died down ever since Erebor was taken. But rumors are rising. Creatures, fair or foul, are speaking of the hidden treasure inside the Lonely Mountain. And what I fear most, is that a dark power is drooling after the great wealth. Shadows had been cast all over the land and though the Blue Mountains are far and safe, I had heard how you have seen traces of foulness within the deepest tunnels." Gandalf paused to let the full meaning seep into the dwarves' hearts. "Yes, the Darkness is coming back. To your second home here in the Blue Mountains."

Thorin's fists clenched tight. He had back away and been defeated by darkness for once and it cost him everything. He was not going to lose it again. "Powers have been trying themselves out and if I'm not mistaken, they are all after the Lonely Mountain. Yet the true force behind had not revealed itself. But I belief," he let his glance swiftly fly over to Thorin, obviously in his own thought. "that it might soon enough."

There was a dead silence in the company, each in his own thought. Finally, Balin spoke with his experienced calm voice, "If the darkness is truly rising, why do you now urge US to take back our own land? If for this you have to go through so much trouble." indeed, Balin was wise enough not to let his instinctive dwarvish-proudness blind him completely.

dwarves were mighty people. They were strong and solid in build and enduring in labor. They had strength to wield the thickest axes and swords. They passed down the wisdom that was gifted to them from the Valar in skills and expertise and though they couldn't match their ancestors skill in one way or another, only the Elvish devices could be compared with theirs.

But they were not in their full force now.

The warriors among them had been slaughtered by Orcs and many of the rest had died in the deep ends of the mountains. Even the fragile Men were in better conditions than they were. Though dwarves had been in cold terms with all Elves since the treachery of Thranduil the Wood Elf, Balin had to admit that Elves were a much more promising force in fighting back the dark forces. They were comparatively lean and quiet, but Balin had witnessed and acknowledged their warriors' skills in battle.

Gandalf, apparently, understood Balin's suspicion by heart, "Because it would be the right thing to do. Erebor has been no other's land except dwarves'. It was once the center of the land but now few value it for its true meaning. They heard about gold filling the vast halls and gems shining as bright as the stars of Valinor, but none of those tales would be enough to set them towards the task against the dragon. Fear would eventually beat down their lust and desire, and they would flee. If such is the case, we will not only lose the treasure again to our enemy, but also reduce our own force. Wealth is not the weapon our enemy relies upon, but such amount as is in Erebor will be enough to corrupt many souls and turn the fair into the evil. It is for this single reason that I for the first one couldn't let it happen." Gandalf suppressed his own indignation. "And I'm not so much of a fool as you think I am not to realize that as soon as some other force stretches its hand towards your fathers' halls, you dwarves would throw all concerns to the wind and march right off to take it back. By the heart of the Old Days I know more or less of you Dwarves' stubbornness and belief me, even in your worse days you can do as much damage as you can do good and it will not be anyone's wish to across path with desperate dwarves."

The dwarves were going through a series of emotions. It was not the habit of the race of stone to interpret words of a wizard, but as soon as they detected the scent of compliment, they overrode the underlying sarcasm. The lesser dwarves cheered and slapped each other on the back to prove their strength and the two young dwarves, Kili and Fili were flooded with the pride to be in the central line of such a mighty people.

Only Thorin remained silent. In his eyes were the cold sadness and the fierce determination. Unpleasant the wizard was, he was right on this matter. Erebor was more than wealth for them. It was their home. It was the hope that they relied on so heavily in their days of exile. Only such desire could override the concern of safety.

Thorin rose up, "So long have we waited." he stated quietly, but there was this sense of constriction within as if he was suppressing with all his strength to stop himself from yelling. "We have been away from our home for ages. We have sat back and let others chance the idea to take OUR things. We have brought shame to Durin's name. We have hidden ourselves in the deep caves in the Blue Mountains for long enough!" he thumped his fist on the table. "Now what do you say, do we lie here still like the worthless worms, or do we take back Erebor and rebuild all the glories of Durin!" Thorin almost roared out the last words, and as he finished, the hall was filled with the crying and yelling of the indignant dwarves that Thorin's were hardly audible. They were shaking their fists in the air and shouting "take back Erebor! Take back Erebor!" again and again. Thorin watched every one of his company with blazing eyes that shown as bright as the furnaces deep in the heart of Erebor. Never in his life had he felt so close to his fate. Never in his life had he been so sure of his might.

Gandalf watched the dwarves silently. He had a smile on his lips as he fingered something in the gray pocket of his.

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Well, if you think that Thorin in this chapter appeared to be so easily-convinced, you are with me in our perspective! Thorin will, of course, not be so irrational as to make this decision without more thougths, but we really shouldn't forget that they were all quite agitated at the moment. Thankfully, we'll find out more in the next chapter! Any review is welcome. Please tell me about your thoughts!


	3. The Concil

Author's note: In this Chapter you'll discover what I mean that the end of the last chapter. Hopefully you'll see the story of another person who was really important to Thorin. Good, now let's enter the third chapter of Thorin only and see more of him in my vision!

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The passion of the dwarves came suddenly and vehemently, and it would not so easy as to die down if not one interfered with them. "but we cannot make them follow us even they have come to the council. They had pledged their oath to the king. And you know that they would need a token to prove you the king. What we claim and what we all know is not enough to convince them." Balin's calm voice rose between the chaos. His eyes were sad and firm.

He and Thorin and everyone at the table knew what he meant by that. The king's jewel, the Arkenstone. That was what they need in order to convince and lead the armies of the dwarves and march off into war with Smaug. "I know your desire to take back Erebor, lad," Balin moved forward and gripped Thorin's shoulder, "but our treasure is deep in the Mountain under the guard of that fire-breathing dragon. We cannot order Dain to come with us if we do not have it."

Thorin looked up into his gray eyes. "Of course we cannot lead them to war without the Arkenstone." he gave a fleeting smile to a very confused Balin. Then, he turned towards Gandalf and his icy eyes again fixed to the wizard. "And he knew that. You can't have missed this key in the whole plan." he walked slowly towards the gray form, his expression a little bit rigid due to his inward anticipation. "You said that you convinced Dain to come to the council. And if you could convince him, you held the imperative proof that I had the confidence to go back to the Mountain. What was it, Gandalf. What was it that you held to all the other of my kindred to convince them of MY plan."

A bright light flashed over the wizard's eyes. Perhaps he didn't make such a bad choice on Thorin, the dwarf price after all. Gandalf knew the importance of the Arkenstone, as was stated for so many times over the history from mouths of different races. The Elves had mentioned it and the ones from the elder days had witnessed the brilliance of it themselves. The Arkenstone had long been the emblem of wealth and power. The heart of the Mountain. With the Arkenstone, even the hidden Elves from the woods came to behold this treasure and pay their unusual respect to dwarves. But the stone was lost, in the massive wealth of Erebor, with, of course, the guard of a fierce dragon. Gandalf wouldn't urge the dwarves to such a quest without any token to convince them the opportunity of success. And indeed, just as the dwarf prince said, he had a token to persuade even the stubbornest dwarf like Dain. He held the key to the whole journey and quite precisely, a key he held.

Gandalf raised his brows and chuckled, "very well, Thorin. I do have the thing you need here to take back your homeland and I've come all the way to deliver it to you." He leaned forward and held out his hand, which fumbled in his pocket just moment ago.

Between his fingers was a key.

Thorin couldn't believe what was happening. A key. The key in the legend. Could any of this be true? His heart was thumping wildly at his ribs and his felt his mouth parched. The air seemed to grow all of a sudden very dense and he wanted to rush out of this deep chamber and reach the smooth wind out in the lookout. He glanced into Gandalf's expecting eyes and Gandalf was just as surprised to see the glance of him even fearful. Well, who could have guessed that an heirloom could be so scary!

Gandalf held out the key with such solemnity, but his eyes were encouraging Thorin to take the key. Thorin did nothing but staring incredulously into the dreamlike device. "Take it," Gandalf stretched his arm a little further. "It belongs to you and your family." Thorin didn't falter. Plainly relying on his own will to stop his hand from shaking, Thorin reached out and wrapped his fingers around the embellished iron.

The surface of the key was coarse and smooth at the same time. The metal was gleaming a dark silver light under the torch light of the chamber. The end of the key was twisted and hammered into a set of angles and the brinks of the key was carved with ancient lines and design. On the plain metal surface, Thorin could see scratches of old times, and several ends were corrupted by acid in the rain and sourness of the soil, but the main part changed no shape and reduced no weight. The fine art of Durin, Thorin was sure of it. The moment Thorin set his fingers on the key, he felt as if he was touching the heart of Erebor. He felt as if he was speaking to the old and dead, as if he was experiencing all at once the endurance of his line. The ancient legend was true. Thorin felt that he could kneel in front of this treasure passed down to him from his grandfather.

Legends were suffuse in the Lonely Mountains. Thorin had long heard of this one when he was just a young dwarf. A key to the heart of the Mountain, made to the ancient door of Durin. The legend was never complete, and Thorin never asked his father or grandfather such things. He was made a warrior, not a boy catching after folklores. Yet it remained. It was said that this passage was among the most magnificent of all dwarf designs, so carefully and imaginatively devised that others strange to the depth of dwarf craft could easily mistake it for magic.

A hidden door.

When the dwarves were digging away, no one found this secret passage and over the years of his wandering in the halls, Thorin had never found the trace of it. He once doubted the authenticity of the story, wondering if there could ever be such door that eluded his keen eyes. No doubt, Thror was going to tell Thorin of the passage, as was the right of the king under the Mountain. But he had not the chance to do that now. He was buried with all the dwarf warriors under Moria, his mouth shut forever. Thorin felt his breath ragged as if he might faint like a woman, gripping tightly, he spoke in a faint and breathless voice that threatened to crack at any moment. "Where did you find it?"

Gandalf laughed but soon calmed himself, and when he spoke again, his face took on an expression of graveness. "It was given to me by your father, Thrain, son of Thror." Thorin looked up quickly, his eyes inquisitive, "You've seen him?"

Lord knew how much he had sought his father over the years. Ever since Thrain went missing after the battle of Moria, Thorin had never stopped looking for his father's track. But the news had died down over the years and now hardly a soul told the name of Thrain. His heart tightened at his father's name. Indeed, Thrain might not be as great as Thror, whom Thorin always thought with awe, and he might not be as caring about Thorin as his mother did. But he was his father after all and over the years, as Thorin took over the dwarves, he had developed certain responsibility to his father. He couldn't bear the thought that while he and the remaining of the people were having a calm life and lived with what there was left of their dignity, his father was in exile somewhere over the land and might probably been taken prisoner by orcs or other filthy creatures. Most precisely, he couldn't let any descendant of Durin suffer any insult from people less than they were. For more, he wanted to share the misery of the past with someone he knew. He wanted to share his blood with someone and see into each other's eyes, knowing that they were both humiliated, both in exile, both with the fate to take back what would always be theirs. It wasn't that Thorin held no sentimental reasons for wanting to find his father. He had felt more obligation and respect to his father than love and care. It wasn't as if he didn't remember his early years. It was just that it had been too long ago. Long enough to make him blunt for things. So, it was with a great start that Thorin once again registered this name. Thrain. It was as if he was Thrain, not his father.

"Yes, I've seen him, but it was a long time ago." Gandalf paused, calculating how much time he needed in order to make clear his encounter with Thrain the half-mad. He hadn't thought much about the need to tell Thorin now, at the time of urgency, the tales of old, but he felt his heart twitched and a strange warm feeling crept upon his heart. The kind of dwarvish warmth. He had not foreseen Thorin could manage this in his eyes. His eyes were wide and the blue mingled with gray was almost fearful. It was not the warmth that would make Gandalf the great wizard to come forth and to utter soothing words. It was, indeed, not the warmth of a little girl. It was what was left in the hardened, crusted heart of Thorin. Gandalf signed.

"It was unexpected encounter." He sat back into the hard chair, not finding any comfort in the dwarf design. His eyes were fixed on something far off and as he tried to recall every detail of the past, he seemed to go back there and experience everything. Years ago, so long that he didn't recall how many years, he was travelling along the Moors when he found him. Thrain, the King into exile. Gandalf was indeed surprised to have found him after so many years. He too believe that he was dead in some unknown place in the land. When Gandalf came to him, he was already half-mad. He had his weapon still by him, but Gandalf suspected whether he knew still how to wield it. He was tumbling on the moors, vaguely towards the east. Thrain didn't look like a dwarf of holy blood any more. He was covered with mud and dust and the fur on his coat was gone. He still had pieces of his old time armory clasped loosely around him, but his garments were torn from his chest and his hair was altogether a mess. If it hadn't been for the dwarf chain on his neck, Gandalf could easily have taken him for some wanderer, some worthless soul.

"He was all the time muttering about returning. About going east." Gandalf paused and looked at Thorin. He was now looking furiously at a distance. His graveness was pouring out of him and he looked as if he could burst at the tidings about his father. Clearing his throat, Gandalf continued his story. "He heard of me, of course, but he didn't trust me at first. He was not at his best when I was with him. He was having illusions and exhausted by himself. He had been seeking a way to go back to Erebor. With his own power, that was quite impossible, but he was determined. The Moors were plagued by creatures that I wouldn't so much desire to encounter, and I was surprised that he managed to live after so many years after Moria.

"I stopped him and decided that I had better bring him over to the Blue Mountains. At least in here he could spend his last years in peace in the rock chambers. But it was already dusk when I found him, and we decided to take shelter nearby." Gandalf drew in a deep breath, unsure if he should tell Thorin what really happened.

"I took precautions at night. We picked a place that would very unlikely be discovered from the outside." Gandalf cast a look over Thorin's direction. "Even in his circumstances, Thrain was still a respectable hunter on the Moor, as no dwarf ever was. We both went to rest and I thought we could be safe for one night and I was sure that we could arrive at the Mountains within ten or less days journey. I gather that it must have been the middle of the night. Thrain woke me." Gandalf blew a puff at his pipe. The smoke was white and gray.

Gandalf was a little alarmed at Thrain, but he soon discovered that Thrain was in more sense than he did during the day. He was calm but urgent and his gestures were pleading. "He gave me the key at once, said that I must pass down this heirloom of Durin's line to you regardless all cost. When I asked him why he didn't want to deliver such important thing to you, he told me that he had other business that he couldn't return to you and his people." Thorin felt a sense of dread creeping upon his heart. What business had Thrain and himself alone? He couldn't possibly want to take back Erebor on himself?

"He was rather out of his mood at night, but his eyes were fierce and I have no doubt that he had as much sense as any dwarf. I tried to assure him that things would be different once he was back with his people, but he shook his head. He bade me to sleep, saying that we would talk in the morning. I had my doubts that he would flee when I was sleep, so I refused and suggested that we should be on our road instantly." Gandalf looked sad. "He was unwilling to come with me and I couldn't wrought him here. He still had his right of will and I would not interfere with his choice."

"He was out of his senses, by Durin's name!" Thorin cursed with trembling words, and his hand was around the key so hard that the hard iron was starting to bite into his flesh. "Well, he didn't look like it to me back then." Gandalf said firmly. "I gave him my protection and my blessing and bade him farewell."

"Your blessing?" Thorin retorted menacingly and the words squeezed out from his clenched teeth. "Your blessing is nothing on the Moor for him." he really found it hard to believe. Wise such as Gandalf would never do anything as to let go of such a dwarf. The wizard knew the value of Thrain and he knew that if he left him on the Moors for one more day, Thrain wouldn't survive to the night. Thorin could even see his father under the similar fate as his grandfather. The devilish laugh and hunger of the Orcs made him shudder.

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So, what do you think! Please write a review for this story so I know what to improve! Cheers. Ali

"It is not within my power to ask conformity from your father and I trust you won't want your father brought to you without such dignity!" Gandalf said with stern voice, but even himself laughed at his own words. Dignity? When did dignity count in the face of life and death? He was trying to let Thorin drop it, considering the agitated state he was in. Gandalf looked at Thorin gravely, hoping that he would not detect the insuppressible sadness. Gandalf knew that it was not a noble act to conceal information about one's father, but Thorin need not hear it. Not right now, not when he was facing such a task. If he was to be the King, this could be the first lesson he learned: to hide his grievance.


	4. What wouldn't I risk

Author's Note: Now here is Chapter four of my beloved story! This will be truly the start of their journey! btw, have any of you read the History of Middle-Earth? I would really appreciate it if you could tell me about Tolkien's insights about the start of their journey! Thanks for the follows and favorites! You made my day!

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Gandalf was relieved when the dwarf Prince asked nothing else but stayed silent, deep in his own thought. The other twelve were also silent. Many of them had not seen Thrain but it grieved them just to think how much that dwarf had gone through and what might had ended up with him. Kili and Fili, the descendants and kindreds of the lost king, were flooded with indignation. Only Balin shared the silent grief of Thorin. Balin was always close to the Family and deemed as the most loyal ones over the years and in this moment, only he could understand what this piece of news would bring to Thorin, for whom the shame and agony of Moria had never really wear away.

"Thorin, " Gandalf said with a calm and quiet voice, "It is not the time for you to mourn for your father. He had given me the key and he wished me to deliver this to you. This is the only chance that you'll ever get to recover Erebor and the chance is not to be wasted. Therefore, I had called the Mountains and all your kindred to your counsel. What you would say or decide I did not know, but I had come to the Blue Mountains all the same. The burden is on you, Thorin. You out of all the other people should now claim your land and lead your people back."

Thorin raised his head and looked at the gray wizard who wanted him to lead his people to a deadly quest for the interest of the wizard himself. He longed for the quest, but he didn't like to be pushed into this by someone who would only take advantage of his eagerness. "I will recover Erebor when the time comes." he rose up and brought out his full extent of royal air. "If I go, it will be not for your urge or the fate of Middle-Earth. It'll be the time that I deem right for my people. But I will go to the counsel, even just to show them that the line of Durin has not died out. That we will recover our kingdom." Thorin slowly moved towards Gandalf, who sat in silence but now in his rare respect towards people so shattered. "Your message towards my kindreds will be true, because we will be there." There was shouting coming from the table, and the dwarves were all shaking their fists, yelling out their own words and nodding fiercely at one another. Thorin cast a heavy glance at his companions.

Later, when the company retired and Thorin went back to his chamber, he was very much exhausted but couldn't immediately go to bed.

He had not seen this coming.

Every since Gandalf came to the Mountains this morning, the whole of his plan had been shredded up to tiny pieces. He had not envisioned his reclaim of Erebor to be like this. In his thoughts, it would be a large amount of dwarf armies again charging in the East direction. It had always been a dark cloud of stout dwarves rushing over to the great gate of the Mountain and he himself killed the dragon. He would have proudly asked the Lords of the Land to come again to the Eastern Mountain to pay their long due respect. He would have again proved the pride and skill of Erebor. But that was all now very impossible.

Thorin signed and walked over to the narrow place out of the Mountains. The night was bright and chilling, with the wind from the far West blowing gently into every dwarf's dream. The moon was looming high over the clouds and all was clasped in a veil of dark blue. Into the broadness of the night, Thorin thought of the ancient Kingdom set by his ancestors. He saw the blazing trees under Durin's light. He saw the torches flaming against the hard stone and the soft breeze. He remembered the older days, when he and his people were living in comfort.

But that was lost.

Thorin felt his teeth crushing under the pressure, but even that couldn't relieve the weight on his heart. He knew well that even if he set out this time, it could just be a council. But what else could he possibly ask for? The Blue Mountains would take more than his generation to rebuild its proper strength and Thorin feared that he would not be alive to see it reached its full strength. His only hope lied with the alliance and the unity of all dwarf power, and in this council, he would win the dwarves' heart.

The next day was busy for Gandalf as well as for Thorin. They had found out all the maps remained from the older days and Gandalf had indeed learned the ancient geography by heart that he soon pointed out their supposed route. The wizard had set the meeting place at the place down South. "The council must reveal its true nature to no one but the necessary parties. As soon as the other lines on Middle-Earth hear of your council, they will never leave you alone to your business. They would ask their share in so great an effort, but what they truly want is to know your plan and get hold of the gold in Erebor. Worse, they will follow you." Gandalf said warningly to Thorin, who hunched over the maps and was studying carefully. Thorin had earlier expressed his doubts about South. His ancestors had never traveled down so far. The North had the cold wind and the frozen land, but a noble land that was, whereas the South was said to be plagued by warmth and treachery. Gandalf had suggested the Old Halls of the dwarves in the early days, but the idea had brought Thorin shudders. The Old Halls had been there for ever for all the dwarves knew. They were made in the ancient dwarf fashion that was both grand and delicate. The pillars and the walls had been built with the care and delicacy of the jewels. They weren't very much adorned with jewels and gold. Their ancestors had clearly envisioned what these movable wealth could bring to the great work of theirs, so they had opted for an heirloom that no one would steal away: the construction itself. Dwarves had hardly been there in these days. In fact, so few people had visited the sites that they had already half gone into the myths of old. The glorious stony palaces of Durin.

"We don't know what would be there. No one had been there since ever. The road is too perilous for a council, and I don't need to remind you that those of my kindreds with less boldness would not come because we had picked the terrible place." Thorin said quietly, never took his eyes away from the maps.

"True, but that was the only place safe for the council. Halls from the Old will scare off your untrustworthy friends and enemies. There," Gandalf adopted his casual tone, as if mentioning something of minor importance or rather obvious, "may have been rumors, but the Halls, I trust, would not endanger the master of its own. It was built by your grandfathers, Thorin, and they of all things on Middle-Earth remained faithful and unchanged during the ages. Go show them that you still wield command of the properties of your family. Go show them what is rightfully your place to be." Gandalf had changed his tone shortly after the Council at the Deep Hall. He had made his point and now Thorin had already promised. It would be unwise to press on tight at this stage of event and he was fully aware how his wrong moves would destroyed the plan. Gandalf was very much convinced of himself, but he had come here thinking that he would use the Dwarves for the peace of Middle-Earth. But clearly he proved himself wrong. He had envisioned the yearning for home from the dwarves, but he had not guessed the sorrow so deep and piercing that he felt something himself. The feeling of not belonging anywhere, of being deprived of dignity and pride.

"It will take many days for ourselves to get there. My cousin from the mounds of the South would reach there before we do. Have you told them the day of our arrival?" Thorin estimated the distance and frowned. It would indeed be a long journey. And hard. They would have to travel south and eastwards, through the plains and mounds into the Mountains. There, lay the legend of dwarves. It was away and hidden from all outsiders, but it was also the direction to Moria. Thorin stared into the black spot in the middle of the Mountains and his fierce eyes were boring holes in the paper. Gandalf read what he thought.

"I have not. And yes, your road will be long and exhausting, which is why you'd better start it early. You have to race with time. I only told them that you were already preparing for your road. I suspect you would rather keep them waiting." yes, dwarves hated waiting.

"So what do you suggest? Do you say that we just leave our people and marched off, unprepared and unplanned, waiting for the jeering and disappointment when we get there?" Thorin spitted out the last words. "This is the one chance that we have since so long ago, and I'll not ruin it. They had already been dismayed by our defeat against the Dragon. It takes little to scatter them forever."

"I said no such thing. It is not indeed to be a rushed quest, but you need to start it before they lose hope in you all the same. Save all the worries and cares for the long road that you're about to set foot on, for the time is short!" Gandalf said sternly.

After a long silence, Thorin spoke. He was indeed battling with himself. Part of him yearned to set out the next day, through whichever rivers and dangers towards his fate. But part of him was against the uncertainty.

"I'll ask them to prepare immediately. We'll set off five days from now."he declared at last. Gandalf put on a small smile. Thorin won in the first battle of his, and Gandalf was right. "Good. Go and rest and sort straight the affairs of the Mountains. But I have to warn you not to tell your people so much. Rumors get around quickly these days. The maps we have are showing much blank area on the path we will take, but they will, like all places on Earth, be full of unexpected things. Go rest and be prepared. During these days I shall come to your people's aid should they require my help." Gandalf said without much expectation of the dwarves' asking for help. Entertainment, maybe, but the dwarves were too proud to ask him for help, as if they couldn't go on with their lives if he hadn't show up. But Gandalf had too much mercy in him to see little ones struggling. He leaned on his staff and took his leave from the chamber. When he got to the door, Thorin's deep voice rang up from behind. "You're coming with us?"

Gandalf paused. It was not his quest. He had finished the job Thrain assigned to him, and his road was supposed to be turning again all over Middle-Earth. Rivendell Maybe. He had long suffered from the turmoil elsewhere and now could only crave for the peace down the valley. But now. The dwarves had changed many of his ideas and he now felt responsible for their fate. He had urged them on because of the well-being of all people on Middle-Earth. What right had he now to abandon these people? The Wizards had not come to the land for nothing. Gandalf turned very slowly to see Thorin in the dusk light. "Yes, you shall have my company."

The five days had passed full of arrangements. Thorin had told all his people that he along with his company would go South to scout the Old Places of their ancestors. He had appointed the leader of the watchman to take charge while he was away. He could not trust anyone more than he did his chief watchman, who loved the people with his life and knew the Mountains so well. They had intended to travel light and brought little clothes with them. The South was after all far warmer than the Blue Mountains. Gandalf had taken care of the ponies. He bought the ones from the Men village so Thorin didn't have to go himself. It would be far more suspicious if a dwarf who usually served became all at once a big customer.

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Much tears had been shed on the departure of the company and by then all were suspecting the true nature of their Prince's sudden decision to so strange a place. They rode off at a clear morning when the white mist was just retreating back to the deep woods. The company looked one more time their halls. None of them knew what would happen.

Thorin hardly looked back. He rode to the forefront of the trail of ponies, clutching the reins tightly. Along the tree lines they rode. Not so far from their Halls, the Blue Mountains cut down into a deep valley, and through there they would go across the Mountains down to the Southern Paths. The weather was good. The waters went white and clear on their right, and velvet Mountains and verdant landscape was to their left. Thorin had long lost the familiarity of the road and his blood chilled at the thought of their former crossing of them. At the high lands, dwarves were frozen and the barren grounds supply no edible creatures to eat. Hard had they pushed to reach the west side of them.

Thorin never spoke much except when the orders were absolutely necessary. Balin thought he had been less and less talkative and had closed himself in as the journey trudged on. He was not happy to be dragged on so holy a quest, but he couldn't imagine what this lad must be thinking.

But Thorin was having a hard battle with himself. Inside, he felt ashamed. Gandalf had shattered the only illusion he had about a decent force back to Erebor. He kept telling himself that this was just the council they were heading, but look what people he brought? Tinkers, blacksmiths, toy makers! Some warriors, indeed, but too old to proudly received the compliment. For a moment he even wished that he had come alone. Even it meant that he would sure die in the darkest corner on Earth without a soul knowing anything. Sometimes he secretly wished for death like this. He would be crushed for eternity if his successors cast so much as a contempt look on his grave, and he wasn't confident enough to guarantee mourning and glories.

While Thorin was deep in his thought, the company slowed down. They had rode on all day without a decent meal, all too eager to get to the dent in the Mountains and march fast ahead while they had no one to hinder them. The dusk was long ago and the denser night was enveloping them fast. "Stop!" Thorin ordered in his commanding voice. "Start the fire, we camp here under the trees tonight." that was all he said before every one went off to sleep. Even during the meal he had only taken curt counsel with Gandalf. "We'll enter the Mountains tomorrow." He said quietly. "true. You know the Path we are going to take, I'm sure?" Thorin said nothing but stared with his eyes alarmed. When it came to a quest like this, what wouldn't he risk in the wild?

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Author: Wowwww! Such a chapter! I hope I peaked your interest in what is about to happen on their journey? Well, me myself is quite attempted! So please, tell me about your thoughts! I would really appreciate any reviews! Tell me what you think! Btw, anyone learning Quenya? the great invention of Tolkien? I would loooove to have a study company for this.

Cheerio, Ali


	5. Memories in the Mountains

Author's Note: So, Chapter Five! So this chapter will tell more of Thorin's past and how the Dwarves moved to settle down in the Blue Mountains. Also, it reveals something about a not-so-normal side of Thorin. Hope you like it!

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The air was cold but refreshing near the gap in the Blue Mountains. Thorin's company had set out before the first light and in the darkness they proceeded on for a while. Soon, after only a few leagues, they came upon the turning point. The Blue Mountains opened in the middle as if an ax had cleaved it hard down to the base. There were lights coming from the gap, as the Sun was now rising. The company turned their route towards the gap. Across the plain and away from the river bank they went.

The path in the Mountains were so very old and none really knew who cleaved it out. Indeed, at so many point it seemed so impossible for any being to make a path. Some place was so narrow and dangerous and...impossible that for long people on Middle-Earth had suspected it of the Gods' doing. They from the West may wield such a power to shape the Mountains and Seas. The path went through the Mountains in the valleys, but at some points it turned into the high peaks along. Those were the places that the Dwarves froze and Thorin suspected they were still there. They couldn't drag their dead kindreds over the Mountains and the path was so narrow and hard that they found no means to bury them. They had to left them along the side, in the most decent place they could manage and piled a stone hill to mark the lives that slipt away there. They would surely be there, if the Mountains had never claimed them.

Sun was now peeking over the outline of the Mountains. It casted a velvet grace and under the soft light, the Dwarves saw the not so far snow hills. Against the orange growing sunlight, the peaks were eternal and blue. The breeze was wilder now that they were in the mouth of the gap. Their braids were lifted up by the wind and the Dwarves all stopped to behold the great beauty in front of them. The Blue Mountains were soft in general. More comforting than the one in the far East.

"I remember watching out from the East Post." Balin said to Thorin, who stared transfixed to the growing light that was starting to warm the chilly land up. "there is nothing like it. The Sun coming up from the East side." Balin said, his voice full of emotions.

"And it comes straight from the horizon." Thorin said quietly, never taking his eyes off the illuminated peaks. He, too, was lost in the memory of old. "it rose up to the high sky, its course unhindered by anything. The plain in front of the Mountain was illuminated gold and green. And the sunlight went past the Mountain, to the whole world behind." his voice was slightly quivering. He envisioned what it was like when the World was beneath him. When the vast land of the East was filled with wonders and glories.

"I do believe the Sun is now upon Erebor, lad." Balin looked firmly into Thorin's eye and he squeezed Thorin's shoulder. Thorin looked at him and for the first time during the whole journey, offered his closest friend a tight, bitter smile. "So we must now make haste." Thorin gripped up his reins and the pony lifted its head and neighed. "Forward! We must go as quickly as we can." he then rode up to the forefront with Gandalf, with the rest of the company following closely behind.

In the back of the trail of ponies, Kili and Fili rode along. "We are truly riding off in the legend. You remember the legend, don't you. Uncle has told us of the Lonely Mountain. Now we are finally seeing it ourselves!" Kili seemed overjoyed to think about the quest. "Of course I remember it! We are finally going home!" their mother had much to complain and say when it was decided that the heirs of Durin should go on such a quest and Thorin had to give his word that he would do as he could to take care of the young lads. "It's time for them to see the World, Dis. And they would be my heir to take Erebor. They should not be absent from such a meeting." their mother, Dis, was a strong-minded Dwarf-woman and she only gripped their hands tightly, "Promise me that you'll come back safe. Promise me that you'll bring them safe back to me." it was an empty plea and they both knew it. Thorin gave his sister one last reassuring smile before mounting his pony.

The Dwarves went through the Blue Mountains without so much of a hitch. The Mountains were indeed merciful towards their own dwellers and even if they had met some danger high up in the peaks, they had managed the journey without real harm. The Dwarves now were more relaxed as the days went peacefully by. They rode swiftly with light hearts. Before long they reached the central line of the Mountains. Here, they had no other way than to climbed up into the snow-clad areas. Here at last, came their long-due hardship.

"Hold your horses tight!" Thorin bellowed through the ever-growing-stronger wind. "We are going into the peaks! Watch your steps!" with this, they started the journey upwards. The ground was growing ever steeper, and shortly after, they had snow and ice beneath their boots.

The ponies were making such an effort to ascend the slopes, and the Dwarves who had to pull them were not the better. They tramped deep in the snow until the snow was sometimes over their knees. With every step, Thorin had to lift his leg upwards and plant it back into the snow, feeling sure of the ground before he moved the other. The only turmoil was when some Dwarf didn't touch the ground firmly before he moved the other leg and when he put his full weight on a single leg, the snow underneath collapsed and gave way. The earth was not ever flat and comforting, so each time the Dwarves sank their feet in the snow, their feet ended up in some awkward angel. It didn't take long for them to feel their joints and ankles, especially, sore and painful.

They mightier ones, including Thorin of course, went forth to dig out the path when the snow was too thick for the ponies to pass. Their labor had given them some warmth against the chilling wind from afar, but their strength couldn't match that on earth high up in the Mountains. They had to take turns to dig out the way, shifting when one was too tired or too out of his breath to go on any further. Thorin wouldn't allow anyone to take his turn before he completely wore himself out, but Gandalf scorned him. "Do let the foolish stubbornness take over your head, Thorin! We have a long way to go and it will be for the best if every one of us has his best strength to bear on!" Much unwillingly did Thorin then give up his post to Fili, who bore the work with swifter speed, but tired himself rather quickly. It wasn't long before their shifts became too frequent to allow anyone any real rest.

"I had not remembered the snow up here so fierce. It must have become worse since we last passed here!" Dwalin grudged, digging out the path fiercely. They had decided to lower the work by not digging so deep and they set their feet once again on the unsure snow layer. Gandalf looked forward and up in the sky. The snow was blocking the sunlight, but not quite. They could still see the light and judging from the surroundings, Gandalf shouted "We are almost half way through." there was a groan within the Dwarves. "Do not despair, Master Dwarves," Gandalf laughed, "the slope will grow slightly downwards after the mid-point and then you shall be more at ease."

Suddenly, Dwarves at the front froze. Sensing the unusual, Thorin pushed his way to the front, a tightness in his heart. "Why have we stopped?" "My lad..."Balin blocked his way with his body and Thorin could see the tears shimmering in his eyes. In Durin's name what had happened? Balin felt his throat clogged somehow and he finally gave way to Thorin to let him stride to the front.

In the snow, there was a small pile of stones. They were forming a small pyramid. The pyramid was half in the snow. The stones were gray, almost white. The top of the pyramid was broken and the stones from there were probably buried down in the snow. But Thorin knew that pyramid of stones. He, together with others of his people, had set it there. There was the tomb of the Dwarves. Thorin walked slowly to the stones. Beside it, the place were the Dwarves used to lie was empty. Even the clothes were buried under the snow. Thorin breathed hard. He bowed his head and frowned deeply. Years ago he had led his people through this path, and many of them died. Their spirits probably never leave this place. Thorin thought that he could almost feel those lives here. They used to be living Dwarves, but now they were just nothing. He didn't even remember their names now.

The process of seeing his people die was horrible. They had slept in the open, letting the drowsiness take them. His dream was endless darkness that seemed to be drowning him. Nothing. Not even himself. He heard himself breathing like a choking man and he had woken with a start. His eyes snapped around him. Dwarves were lying about him. A sudden fright took him. Thorin scrambled to his feet and rushed over to Dis and Balin. "Dis, wake up! Balin!" their lifeless forms didn't give any reactions. "Dis? Wake up, wake up!" he had pleaded in her ears, and then turning his head he shouted to others. Slowly, Dis opened her eyes. Thorin didn't remember how long had it been since the last time he had felt so happy.

Thorin recalled how some of them slept and never wake up. He remembered people lying around him. Some of them stirred and opened their eyes. Others had not. He didn't believe it. They looked so much alike. Sleep and death, so much alike. The muffled cries still rang in his ears. The Dwarves couldn't cry because their eyes were dried by the whipping wind, and the tears would freeze and burn their cheeks. Those men, those who had fought beside him now lay in this freezing place. They left them behind. The ice there hardened his heart. For a long time Thorin couldn't get over those death. They were in the same mountains, the lived and the dead. Thorin touched the stone in his Halls and he felt his kindreds somewhere in this Mountains. Lying there forever.

"The Mountains took them." he said silently. Balin came forward. The old Dwarf was dabbing his eyes and let out his ragged, feeble breath. That was the closest he could do not to weep. "They have rested in peace." Thorin looked back at his company. Gandalf was leaning on his staff and he took down his hat. The others were in deep grievance. Dwalin crouched down and he clutched his head to stay calm. Those who were watching Thorin had seen his eyes. Those eyes full of grievance hardened until they saw the last trace of sadness turning into ice and stone, and determination. "Let's go away."

The Dwarves went on, each lingering over the pile to pay their respect to the undead Dwarf spirits. Those had failed. But they would succeed.

The snow grew ever so strong and their pace was slowed down greatly. "At this pace we would not get over this period before it becomes too dark to go on." Gandalf muttered and there was a shadow in his eyes. "No!" Thorin retorted instantly. "We have to get over the snow storm before we can rest somewhere. We have no time to spare." Thorin only went on and labored harder, but indeed he was fearful. The first time they went through they had been many, and many lives had been lost to him. What he had was not many, and he would not risk the passing of any of them.

Despite their effort, they couldn't go to the grassy part of the Mountains before sunset and as the light faded behind them, the wind got wilder and the snow thicker. "We cannot go on without bringing ourselves danger!" Balin yelled to his companions from under his hood. The wind was forever against their marching and he could now no longer straighten his back while walking. Thorin looked back. Dwalin was already dragging one or two lesser ones on. Even Kili and Fili, though quite young and vigorous they were, appeared to be struggling. He looked at Gandalf. He dared not stop. He dared not give in to his weariness.

"We'll rest here." he said at last. The night was not the perfect time for any marching and they could fall over the edges for all they knew.

They didn't start any fire, or rather, couldn't achieve it. The boulders along the path became their shelter. After stuffing something in their stomach, Thorin ordered them to rest. When he was all by himself, Gandalf came to him. The gray wizard appeared much more like an old man in the force of nature. He sat opposite Thorin and watched him sign.

"You have to let go of the past, Thorin. You were all in miserable circumstances and the Mountains would not spare any life that was weak and reduced." Gandalf said as if to himself. Thorin's eyes shot up at him at once, and they were burning with a cold flame. "Weak and reduced? No, you are wrong. The weak and the reduced remained, because I thought too much of their lives and I overestimated our ability. The strong took on all the work and gave up all the comfort," his breath became ragged and unsteady. "they took down their cloaks so the weak would not throw themselves down the cliff from trembling. They shielded the bodies of weaker people with their own. I've seen my warriors dead wearing the thinnest clothes. I've seen a man's body curling around a woman's to keep her warm. They all died to protect the weak. And what can they do? The Blue Mountains would be better if it wasn't them who died." Thorin couldn't go on. He hated weakness. Every kind of weakness. His grandfather's weakness to gold. His people's weakness for sentimentality and heroism. Indeed, they became weak for trying to be the strong. For a time, he wished all the weak perished.

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Author: So how do you like Thorin's special resentment towards the weak? I think it showed in the movie but this is how I envision he would generate such hatred. All comments are immensely welcome! Please tell me something about you thoughts! I watched an interview about Richard and when the host asked him what he would ask Tolkien if possible, he said it would be the love of Thorin's life! And even the host was moved to tears! I totally agree with Richard that Thorin has something missing in his life! That would also be a main part of Divinity. I know we are not there yet, but with every new chapter and every comment you leave me, our heroine is, well, ok, slowly, approaching us! Cheers! A


	6. Back to Be the Warrior

Author's Note:I've being having this huge smile on my face ever since one of my dear readers wrote me some comments! I really need to thank you for giving so much encouragement! So the sixth chapter. Hope you like it!

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The Blue Mountains spared the faithful dwellers. The next days were spent with less happenings. After that night that they rested in the snow storm, they got over the most harsh point in the Blue Mountains. Thorin that morning had got up feeling sweat on his back. He had sat up with vigilance and at once shouted around to wake all the others. The snow had stopped, and the sky was again clear, but that didn't put his unease at rest. He had been relieved when all the Dwarves got up and began to pack up their things. They had marched on further than they did on their previous day. Indeed, the grass clad ground was much more easier and their spirits were lifted at the sight of the elegance of the Mountains. The Mountains were not plagued by foul creatures and they were moving fast that they soon came out of the Mountains.

They had followed a stream running away from the Mountains and the clear water brought much hope and vigor to the company. The stream went into a forest. The forest surrounded the south-west part of Blue Mountains and was as perilous as the Forest farther East, where the old legend and ancient creatures dwell. It was in this forest that they had rested and their routes were settled. They were to go further East and then down south and then reached the Old Halls at the bottom of the Misty Mountains.

"If we are to go the Bottom of the Mountains, we should take the shortest route and go straight in the south-east direction. The curved road will slow up down. And we don't have to be near the Misty Mountains for so much. That land gives me ominous feelings." Fili had said, sounding very hasty. "the distance would indeed be greater, but along the Mountains we can keep better our track. You do not know how easy it will be for you to get lost in the Eastern Plain." Thorin said, his eyes only fleeting to Fili's for a very brief second, but Thorin's glance always had its power. It made Kili and Fili feel...inadequate like they did not know a thing about the world. Gandalf seemed kinder to the two young Dwarves than their unforgiving uncle was and he said with a smile, "if we go as you say, we'll have to hit the North-South Road, which is notoriously busy during the days. And we wouldn't want all people across the Land know about our Council, would we? And it was not just plains." Gandalf gave a sigh and a worried look was on his brows. "It is a vast land, indeed, but we are walking, I believe, into the unknown and a blank."

This part of the land was not specified much on the maps and all the ancient tales about the South was vague and undiscerning. When they settled the route, Thorin was silent for a while. They were going straight to Moria on their way. True, their path would lead them to the South of Moria and with a little bending of their route they would certainly not be there. But still. Thorin thought he hesitated because he didn't want to go back to replay the horror of that Battle. But he was wrong. He hesitated because he knew that he would WANT to go there to see. Dreadful or not, Khaza-dum was one of the great work of Dwarves and they had always been proud of it. Not only would he like to see the grand halls which bore some resemblance to Erebor, but he also wanted to go back to that battle field. He was sick of himself somehow because he wanted to see the barren land. He wanted to witness the damage down by fire and steel. He wanted to remember. The battle at Khaza-dum had always reminded him of the eagerness to recover Erebor.

It was the shame that did the trick. Moria, as the Elves called it, was the Dwarves greatest inventions. Numerous craftsmen had poured their life into the structure and it was supposed to be a piece of art. Only it was stained by the Orc blood. "Always remember what you have come here for, Thorin." Gandalf had said vaguely, not really pointing out his guess and his warning, but that was enough for Thorin to understand what he had really meant. He had only two things to consider now. First, what to say to the Dwarves from the Five Mountains when they were in the Halls. Second, how to make haste. Thorin had, of course, plotted out thousands of plans to take back Erebor. For several times he called Balin for council to plan out the route and the distribution of Army Force. He thought of every leader in every direction. He had even thought of their camping sites near the Mountain. But when he was actually going to say this to his kindreds, he was not happy at all about all the things he had envisioned. Indeed he had a long road and he could devote his time in thinking, but that wasn't enough. He was simply mad at himself for not having a plan.

On the next few days, they directed their way to the East and rode straight towards the Misty Mountains. On the fine days, they could easily see the distant outline of Misty Mountains, a dark-gray line that seemed to stretch infinitely to the North and South. They knew that they were looking in the direction of Lonely Mountain, but they couldn't see it yet. The Blue Mountains now looked smaller and smaller to them as they marched on.

The lands in between was not only plains. Sometimes they have to cross the forest. Sometimes they winded their route around the huge lake, but the land was flat and they never had any dangers. In fact, they had hardly met anyone on the road. They had been glad, since this would save them the trouble explaining such a company's purpose in going East. They had agreed that should anyone asked them, they were simply the merchants going East to visit their cousins and do trade in the process, but still, they would hate to face all kinds of inquiries. The lands were only with animals and for a while, they were all suspicious about the smoothness and quietness.

It must have been more than three days before they came to another woods. They had not seen it on the map, and so it was rather nameless. Perhaps just some random trees, they thought. The Forest did not really seemed so thick and as Kili and Fili went in to do some scouting, they came back with no ill report. The trees were not clustered together to create a suffocating atmosphere, and the greenness and the coolness under the trees were actually quite pleasant.

"Oh, I'd prefer going under the shades. The Sun will surely parch us and we can take no shelter in the open field. And the Forest seemed good enough for Dwarves. I see no danger anyway." one of the companions, Gloin said. Thorin glared into the woods himself and turning to Gandalf, he said, "We shall go through the forest. There is only blank on the map so there can't be any great danger. It's not wide in the direction we are going in, perhaps but it spans too widely on the North and South direction. We can't waste the time in winding around this place." his voice was calm and certain, and he was rather informing Gandalf than really seeking his advice. Gandalf nodded and rode on. The Dwarves were going rather slowly in the woods, and the trees did seem to accommodate them quite well.

Not all of them were satisfied, though. Dwarves were, no doubt, not so much as a tree people. Not like the Elves, the Dwarves only saw how the trees writhed and withered under the ages and they certainly would opt for the eternal rock and stone. They weren't able to cross the woods in one day and so they rested beside a great tree. They had started a fire and they got some other supplies from the forest. Thorin cared not so much about the meals. He hadn't really notice what they were eating for the past few days and really, the thing that they took as their meals wouldn't so easily reveal the true nature of them to the mouths and stomachs. Thorin thought that they might captured animals in the forest and made them into a meat stew, but he wasn't so sure and didn't care enough to ask. All he knew was that they were eating(always) a brownish stew without so much of content.

They had taken away the ponies so they wouldn't bother them in their sleep. Ori and Nori were sent as the horse-watchmen and they had long ago led all the ponies to someplace away from the camp, somewhere the ponies could rest and drink.

Thorin was alert when his men appeared to be more sleepy and they seemed to be nodding shortly after everyone had finished his meal. He himself was not so much affected, though. Must have been the comfort of the forest, then. Thorin leaned against a tree bough and looked through the leaves into the brightly starred sky. The stars and moon had changed much since he had last observed them in his chamber. It must had been half a month since they set out, and so far, they had not seen any real challenge. Thorin turned and closed his eyes.

Just when his dark dreams were about to take him, Thorin heard, or at least he thought he heard, sounds and voices in the wind. He at once sat up and lay on his stomach, his hand tightened around his sword. The sounds were very faint and at first he thought he had an illusion. But no. Now he could hear more clearly and he recognized that the sound was coming to their direction. Indeed, the sound was largely made by the hoofs and if he had not turned so his ear pressed to the ground, he would never have noticed it. Not far from where he was lying, Kili walked over here. He seemed to be totally ignorant of the impending riders and was even humming slightly.

Young foolish one. Thorin muttered under his breath. He turned his head and hissed to Kili, "Kili!" his voice was low and commanding and instantly, Kili heard his orders. He waved his hand down to mention him crouched down, and Kili at once flung himself on his stomach. Thorin felt his heart thumping and his clutch on the hilt of his sword was very firm. His eyes were fixed in the forest, searching for the source of the sounds. Why hadn't they picked a better place than this? The Dwarves were all staying in a hollow in the ground and were all leaning against one side. Still, if the riders approach too closely or worse, rode behind them, they would see the eleven Dwarves as well as a Wizard resting. Dwarves in trade was a plausible excuse, but with the company of a wizard? Thorin sneered at the thought himself.

He could now hear more clearly and fortunately it was coming across them, not straight to them. Thorin again looked back at Kili. His eyes were burning brightly in the night. Thorin used his eyes and mentioned towards another tree just beside Kili. It was not close, but Kili would make it without the riders noticing anything if he was careful about it. Kili noticeably took a long breath and leaping up, hid himself at once behind the tree. Kili was a good archer, Thorin was sure and he saw to it himself, but a good archer was a useless one on his stomach. The moment Kili leaped up, Thorin focused once more in the direction of the riders. If they noticed Kili, Thorin would thrust his sword straight into the riders' hearts. The next time Thorin turned his head to see where Kili was standing, he saw the young Dwarf already in place for shooting, his arm steady, his eyes fierce and his arrow following the sound. Thorin would never tell him, but he was proud to train such a fighter.

Slowly the riders showed themselves. There were six of them and they did not seem to be in much of a haste. Judging from their stature, Thorin would say that they were Men. They were taller, but their horses and armors were not of Elvish design. They were less aesthetic and didn't appear to be very tough and smart. The leading rider was by no means the tallest, but his back was straight and his poise showed that his rank must be higher than the others. Brown and gray horses they rode. The beasts had smooth and light steps as they trotted along. The Men on the horseback were only dressed in light armory, making it more like a routine errand than a warfare. They held no banners, but there were emblems on the mail they were wearing. It was a great white horse on its hinder legs.

Men from the South. Thorin knew that emblem. They no longer had any real relationship with Men after their homeland was taken and Thorin had never really went to the territory of Men in the South. Very proud of their horses they were, and indeed, Thorin's tidings had confirmed it. But that had nothing to do with now. They should not have business in this part of the country and certainly should not ride on in the night. The six riders rode just in front of the Dwarves and they did not see them, but it still gave Thorin a rush of blood when they stopped just in front of the tree that Kili was hiding behind.

"We should find a place to rest. It's dark. We'll go on riding the first thing tomorrow. Come, let's find someplace ahead." the front rider said to his companions and stirred his horse straightforward. Thorin looked back and gave Kili a quick wave in the hand. Lowering his bow, Kili rushed silently to the side of their camp, following his uncle to see where the horsemen went. Thorin held his sword in the ready position and he never lose sight of the riders. For a moment, just a moment, Thorin felt that he was back in the old self again. He was again the vigilant warrior in the face of true danger.

The riders stopped in another hollow and after tying the horses to the trees, they went down into a circle and started talking in a very low voice. Their voices were clear and light. The flat Men manner, Thorin thought with contempt. However, when they sat down and unclasped the weapon which they had on their belts, Thorin drew in a quick breath, feeling his hand once again tightened around the hilt of the ready sword.

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Author: So potential danger? What was it about their weapons that made Thorin ready to fight? Hope you all are eager to find out! Please leave me comments so I know how to improve! So, you know what to do! :)


	7. Nomad's Delay

Author's Note: I really would call this chapter a transition between major plots in this story. Also, you can find some details here. This is one thing that I really love about Tolkien's work, the details. Well, hope you share some of my perspectives! Warning: I am re-reading the Silmarillion and for those of you who have read this masterpiece, you may find some inconsistency between the details here and Tolkien's original ones, but I really want to do some creation work. So, hope you enjoy it!

Salute to Tolkien once more before this chapter begins and...Can anyone tell me how exactly Tolkien's Dative Form for Quenya works? I'm really getting a bit confused here...Enjoy the story and...Please let me know what you think!

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Kili again took his position behind a tree trunk, his bow in his hand. His left hand wrapped around the middle of his beloved bow, and his right hand was on the arrow. His fingers slide along the length of his arrow, feeling the coolness and smoothness of the wood. The wood was light and hard. Kili had always loved the art of archery. The beautiful curves of the bow under the strength of a warrior. The straightness and swiftness of the arrows. The moment when the iron point pierced the target with such precision and gracefulness. It had held him captive. Now, as his fingers brushed both the feather on the end of the arrow and the string, he felt a wave of excitement rushed over him. He felt his senses sharpened and his eyes must have shone in the dark shades of the trees. He was facing not necessarily his enemy, but the rush of blood felt so real! His eyes swept through the men, estimating who should be his first target. His eyes fleeted to his uncle. There Thorin was, lying behind a slope, eyes fixed dead on the strangers.

Thorin knew that if these people started a fire, his company not so far away would be awoken. The woods were too quiet even for the crackle of fire to hide itself. And then their purpose would be known to these strangers, more or less. Fortunately, the man Thorin guessed as their captain told his men not to start a fire. Probably for the best.

They were certainly a suspicious company, and Thorin frowned when he saw their weapons. Some of them were bearing the plain swords of men's design. Some of them were long and thick, but they could hardly impress a Dwarf. They all seemed to have two blades, and the hilts were dimly shining in the moonlight trickled down from the edges of the leaves. They were unadorned by gem stones, but Thorin could see that the silver was even and smooth. Strips of leather winded around where the hand would be clasping. Men swords and Elven swords were both thin, but the Elvish design bore much more elegance and the body of the sword tended to be long and slender. However, weapons of such kinds were also seen around the feet of these men. That was what surprised Thorin. Those blades looked old and fair, but that was perhaps no longer forged by the Elves in this time of peace, at least not by any Elves. And as far as Thorin's knowledge went, Elves didn't trade the finest pieces, those with tales and stories, with the outsiders, let alone the wandering people in the South. But what alarmed him was what the captain was now fingering in his hand. That, was a Dwarf blade. It was thick beyond the normal size that people would think that it was the weight and the pressure rather than the sharpness of the edge that was deadly. The lines of the sword was straight and smooth, forming hard angles on the point. The blade itself was much adorned, with the square design of the Dwarves slightly protruding out of the surface.

There were curt lines near the edges of the blade, which shimmered in the silver moonlight. Others would take them for decorative purpose or spells of old, but Thorin knew more than that. It was khuzdul, the Dwarf language. And the words were runes. Thorin didn't know if any of his folks was making these today, but he himself would believe it to be from the ancient times. So, what were these thieves and plunderers doing with his ancestors' proud work around?

The man who was holding and examining the blade looked like a respectable man. His long hair was fixed with simplicity and discipline and his features were cold and formal. Treacherous, Thorin cursed to himself. Those men appeared fair and noble, but years of greed had gnawed in their hearts thousands of holes and black thoughts were spreading madly in their hearts. Thorin had been a witness himself. Hatred darkened his heart.

Just when Thorin was thinking, another one of the men company walked over to sit with the sword-thief. The man didn't take his eyes from the blade, but he shook his head and smiled slightly at his companion.

"That is a fine blade." the new comer said quietly. He might be around the same age as the first one, but he had thick beard. "It's too bad they have been rotting in the dump for ages." both men laughed, just as the two in the shadows clenched their teeth. The sword-thief( as Thorin would call him. )caressed the cool steal.

"I gather it is with the ore. Dwarves delve deep in the heart of the mountains not for nothing. Anyway, a blade weighing like this would be a burden for us on the horses. Still, it is a fine piece of art. It's very much their northern ways."

The new comer laughed lightly. "I can tell how these metals fascinate you, Emroy. Still, we must go back soon. Your north journey should end now. We should ride swiftly back down South at first light. We wouldn't waste time that way. You are too familiar with the land to get lost in its vastness, aren't ye?" there was a mocking tone in his voice, but they both laughed.

"Indeed. I shall love to go through the land again. Roads were long forgotten there and hardly anyone care enough to explore the hills and the lakes. Still, there was much to find." his voice dropped and Thorin detected that he was frowning. He seemed to be thinking about something, recalling some distant memories, and the expression on his face was almost sad. "Indeed, we need to ride swiftly. Maybe then we will reach Escara within six or seven days."

"Bearded" managed a laugh, "don't make such haste. Time is not after all too pressing, and we still have enough time to go back without tiring ourselves out." he paused, silently reading Emroy's face. "You know we still have to pass the Woods of Dew, right. And we are very likely to have to stay there for the night. Even just to visit your beloved stores." Thorin didn't understand their conversation now. What about the stores? And what was this Woods of Dew that mattered so much? He felt the sword-thief, well, this Emroy's hesitation about the name, but Thorin knew that the source of his hesitation was not fear. He himself had never heard of such name, and he didn't felt that he should like it much. It sounded so...Elvish. Things were lurking in the woods and hiding from eyes of all. Thorin was more used to the frankness and coldness of stones. He couldn't say that he had no fear for darkness and peril, but while he worried, he held reverence to such power. Not like the woods. Here, things took you unexpected and tricked the warriors to their feet. This kind of darkness didn't scare Thorin as much as it annoyed him. "We'll only have to stay in Brale for a night. You probably wouldn't even get the chance to let her know that you were there."

"We can go East and then ride down the Misty Mountains. We wouldn't waste so much time over there." Emroy's words were curt but much restrained, and Thorin felt that there was much lying under his speech. Who was this she anyway? Annoyance was sprouting in Thorin's heart. He had thought of this man an even-not-so-mighty but true rider from the South, only to guess that he had been a thief. But even that, Thorin beheld him as a man. Not someone who would be troubled by a particular person(not out of necessity) and would rather lead his companions on the much more dangerous road. He had heard of attachment of this kind, but he certainly wouldn't involve important matters, such as the marching of a company, in his own preference. This man should have known better than to let a woman deter the rightful path.

"You cannot always elude that place, Emroy." the bearded man sighed and he patted Emroy on the shoulder. "She is a perfect girl, and you two both have the sense in you. You are troubling yourself needlessly. " Emroy didn't speak. He stared in the open with that Dwarvish blade still in his hand. "You probably shouldn't be leaving there in the very first place. You should bring her back to Escara. She would be a perfect Lady in our land. People would all love her and she would be a star upon us." Emroy looked at his friend for a brief moment and smiled weakly. "I too wish it was that easy, Bradeon." he too sighed and his voice lifted in a very badly pretended manner, "at least I still can wander around. Not to be trapped in my fathers' halls."

Thorin, lying long enough, thought no danger of these men anymore. Children, that was what they were. They rode for fun and revolved around their emotions and feelings. Had they no better things to do? Thorin couldn't help feeling that the wisdom of old, craft of history was wasted away in the hands of these people. They had no idea what armories like those were for. All they did was gapping behind at what they would never understand. Thorin felt that annoyance again. Only this time, hatred was seeping through every pore of that annoyance. They had no business here and Thorin mocked himself for being blunt in judgment and for lying there with a warrior's heart, listening to a poet's lament. He looked into the shadow where Kili was standing. Kili was probably feeling much alike, but he was young, and he was curious. Thorin saw the similar contempt on Kili's face as he, too, heard about the pretentious speech of these tall creatures. Their talk should not be that of men. But he was young, and even when he saw no menace, his eyes were still bright with vigilance, and his pose was still that of an archer ready to shoot.

"Rest well, my friend, tomorrow we shall ride fast at first light. Tomorrow we shall ride to hit the North-South Road, I think. And then we'll be going straight south. The Woods of the Dew was probably three-day's journey, if we ride fast enough." Emroy at last stood up and started to find his resting spot, while the two Dwarves sneaked away in this short period of confusion.

They were both tired, of course, after the hasty marching of these days, but the little adventure had wakened them up. Now Thorin felt his senses sharpened and he suppressed the urge to snap his head in the direction of the faintest sound. They should have known better. Now as Thorin examined their place of resting, he couldn't blame himself more for the carelessness displayed. They were almost in the open, save a rising mound was behind them to guard them from any watchful eyes in that direction, but that was all. If anyone had been smart enough to go around the place, he would find eleven Dwarves lying across the field, totally unguarded. Gandalf was more discreet, but even he was resting against the tree with his pointy hat lowered to cover his face.

A bunch of dull-sensed ignorants, Thorin thought. Most of them had no idea what it was like to be attacked in their dreams. They had no chance at all. "Go and have some rest," he told Kili, who was equally sensitive now to moves around them, "rise early and check those Men. They mustn't find us here." Kili gave a curt nod and walked over to the far side, the most exposed side of the camp. He had felt a strange shame when he saw his kinsmen lying all over the field, and if no one was in the mood to defend themselves, he would.

Thorin walked to a vacant tree root. It was enormous. Though his mind was now more relaxed, he still felt his steps those of a warrior in a secret march. Grasping his sword, Thorin leaned against the tree and closed his eyes. He didn't bother to use the blanket. The woods were warm, and he thought that morning was not very far away. He didn't want to stay comfortable, in case one of the Men from South got up early and slain all of them in their dreams. As Thorin drifted off to sleep, he felt for a short moment of choking. Then the pressure on his chest removed and as his body slumped against the ground, his senses grew dull until it was all a patch of unresting forgetfulness.

Thorin woke up and found that some of his men were already packing up their things, and Gloin and Oin was already making the fire for breakfast. Gandalf was standing on the top of the mound and was motionless. Thorin sighed. Breakfast. He walked over to Gandalf and found him staring in the direction of last night's strangers.

"Men from the South. They have no business here." Gandalf looked at him with a bit of amusement. "They are always wandering. No one can deny their right to do that." Thorin turned around so he was looking from above at his people rushing around with their trifle errands. "the Woods of Dew, what is that place?" Thorin asked, trying not to betray too much. Gandalf now turned around and his gray eyes had a very fleeting sparkle in them."Why do you ask? It was a little village near the border of the south. In fact very much in the South, judging from the climate." Gandalf was always the one harboring more humor than Thorin. "A very interesting village, indeed." his voice died down into a murmur to himself and Gandalf would say no more.

After breakfast, which was really some stew in the fashion of the last few days, the Dwarves went again on their road. The woods deepened and the land was undulating. Here and there they had to wind their path in order to some much lower land and their marching was muted by the thickening layer of foliage. They had always tried to follow the path, which they now could rely only on. It was winding left and right, but in all it was stretching steadily eastwards.

By noon, they had covered several leagues, but the woods only seemed to thicken and darken. The trees were thrusted into the sky and their roots were invading the path so that every now and then they had to stop and look around for it. Save for the small animals, they had not seen any moving creatures. Gandalf was silent, but he went ever on. Their lighter mood and chattering changed and they seemed to focus all their attention on the trees around them. Those trees grew suddenly as if they meant something, and while the Dwarves felt the life of the trees growing and thickening, they felt themselves dwindling.

The road started to climb up, and then, the company came to a halt. Before then, the road broke down into a deep gorge. It was apparently a river or a stream running through the woods, but the water must have changed its course and now the place was carpeted with grass and stones. The banks raised up as if there had been a bridge connecting the two sides. But now, there was just the gorge. But that was not what the Dwarves were all looking at. On the other side of the gorge, there was a gate.

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Author: So, the gate? I wasn't planning for its appearance here, but it just seems to be the right time. So who would live in the forest beyond the knowledge of our great wizard? Wanna find out? Please review or follow my story so that you can know the moment it comes up! Cheers!


	8. Past in the Forest

Author's Note: so how do you like the plot with the gate? Does it interest you? Well, it certainly interests me! This chapter is absolutely one of my favorite one since I will introduce something new in it. There will also be descriptions and I hope that you will all enjoy this chapter. Something ancient is coming...Good reading!

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The Dwarves went on staring for a while and no one spoke a word. Gandalf was expectedly less surprised, but even he had some worries and curiosity in his eyes. He had not known much about this part of the land and though he wasn't really surprised that some other inhabitants should be here, he was uncertain of their nature. Something ancient was here, but not foul, as could be read from the gate.

Thorin regarded this "gate" with his cold hard gaze. It seemed so natural, and therefore it was so unnatural even in this unnatural forest. It blended with the environment so well that one would rather think that it had been growing there on its own. Two whitish branches grew out of the ground and entwined together at the top. The branches were leafless and it seemed to be glimmering under the sunlight. "Over the gorge." Thorin said, and he strode to the lower point of the bank, leaped down and led his reluctant pony over to cross the water course. The Dwarves followed him and streamed over to the other side.

The gate opened to a much cleared road and to avoid the thick bushes along the stony banks, the Dwarves moved sideways to the gate. They looked up when they went past the gate. The wood seemed to be denser on this side and under the canopy now loomed a shadow. So when the company passed through the gate, they saw a lean silver knot of the branches marking the border of light and shadow. Thorin waited upon the gate while others went past it. He touched the gate frame, and the wood was cool and smooth under his touch. They even appeared to be polished. Gandalf was also waiting. He knew that Thorin would always be going in the front in face of uncertainty. Unless he had some important errand with someone who usually stayed at the back.

"Do you recognize this?" Thorin said in a low voice, his hand on the branch gate. Then he looked again at the ashen wood and continued his careful study on the lines and the vines around the major stem.

"No. I've never known much about this land before, but these are ancient things and seemed to be as old as the forest itself. The design reminds me of the ancient Elves. They alone would take a fancy to such fashion and manner." Gandalf said to Thorin with even a humor on the tip of his tongue. "Elves would cross this place in the old days and some of them scattered around the place. If such woods would be comfortable enough to lure the Dwarves in, then it's definitely good enough for the Elves." The slight mockery( Though Thorin would not think of the quality of his people as something that deserved mockery.) earned an ill-intended look from Thorin.

"The Elves..." Thorin muttered. There was hatred in his voice. "What do you know about them? What else do they have apart from their bows and arrows?" he said with contempt. Bows and arrows were effective weapons in the battlefield, but only the man wielding a sword could be called a warrior. He was not ashamed that he knew little of the Elves other than their skill and weapon of choice. He had never taken an interest, nor was that of any significance to him. He had no heart for their glories, and he didn't love them enough to care for their music and style of living. But obviously, this old wizard did. "I know much about the known ones, the renowned ones in the north and west...and some living in the east of the Misty Mountains," Thorin bristled at the implication. "Thranduil..." he hissed. He, too, knew something of him: his treachery. "But I don't know about this land. However, if this truly was the work of Elves and they still are here now..." Gandalf paused, and even his eyes searched uneasily in the woods for any sign of the swift race. "we'd better be careful. They would be from the old times and many of them, as I would like to believe, are very old." "They shan't hinder us." Thorin said under his breath and he sounded even murderous.

The path continued to wind eastwards as if it plainly assumed the path before. The road kept on darkening and silence was now sipping threateningly into every pore of the company. The ponies trudged on with their head lowered but sometimes they lifted their heads as if listening to the sound eluding the Dwarves' ears. Gandalf's face was troubled.

The trees were no longer the slim creatures. Their roots were spreading above the ground and it wasn't long before they had to dismount and led the animals over the intricate landscape. Thorin was pushing all his senses to their limits. His pony was walking on with obedience under the sure strength of its master's grip. For a moment, the ponies tossed their heads around and the grunting sound escaped from their throats. The sound was sickening. The ponies sensed no danger, it seemed, and instead they were expressing some sickeningly sweet affection, towards whom the Dwarves had no idea about. Thorin put some more force on the reins to hold down his pony's head and he laid his other hand on the pony's broad forehead. He didn't utter a word or any soothing sound, but the pony must have sensed the unyielding strength and power of the will of its master, for it soon stayed still. But it wasn't long before all the rest of the company did the same, for just as suddenly as the unrest of the ponies began, the stop of it came. The ponies now stood obediently by their masters' side. Ironically, they now appeared to be in a calmer and surer state than the Dwarves, which, only disturbed the Dwarves further.

Thorin stood his ground more firmly and his hand was already closing around the hilt of his sword. The rest of the company did the same, for every one of them could feel the ominous change in the woods. Something was moving with utter swiftness and lightness. They could feel their senses refreshed. A sense of wood was moving. A scent of wood was moving. Gradually, the whole woods was swirling around them, encircling them, closing on them, though the woods as their eyes saw were more still than they ever could be. Thorin drew his sword.

The sound of the metal scraping the iron tip of the scabbard was heard and then cut off curtly. Thorin could feel the coolness of the wood reaching out to him and pointing at his heart. "Drop your weapons, Dwarf." a voice said in Common Speech, and an apparent emphasis with disgust was laid on the word "Dwarf". Thorin slowly let go of the hilt and the sword slided back into its scabbard with a click. He lifted his arms slightly and opened his hands. He turned and regarded the "moving woods" with a defiant gaze full of malice. There, under his burning gaze, stood an Elf, with the point of his arrow aiming motionlessly at Thorin's heart.

The woods rustled, and standing out from behind the trees and bushes, were ten other Elves. All with their arrows aiming. Thorin knew there could be no fight. Not if they still wanted to stay alive. With the slightest movement, an arrow would pierce a heart without a grain of mercy or pity. Thorin turned his head to examine the archers and his own people, slowly enough not to set off the arrow. He felt his breath was trembling out of rage, even more so when he saw his people's reaction. Dwalin had been quick to draw out his axe, but it was rather useless since now a high Elf had his dead fix on him. Fili was crouching down, but he lowered his blade down on the grass. Kili had his bow in his hand ever since they entered the woods, but under the fully arched bows of two Elves, his grew slack. The others were no better, if not worse. Some of them already had their hands raised, out of shock rather than fear.

The circle of the Elves closed around them. The ponies were not scared under such weapons and threats. In fact, not a sound did they utter. Gandalf looked with worry and uncertainty into the Elf who now aimed at him from a rock in the bushes. His judgment of their race was confirmed, but he didn't know yet if he was right about their being careful.

"disarm them and tie them up." The one in front of Thorin said to his company in their own language which even Gandalf, a master in languages, didn't quite know. Then, the Elf changed back into Common Speech so that the intruders would understand. "I wouldn't try to put up a fight were I you." his voice was cold but each syllable was light and...floating as if the wind bore it. The Elves leaped over the remaining distance to tie the Dwarves up and a sense of despair descended upon the Dwarves' hearts as they saw a second ring of arrows appear from behind the trees. They were sieged, and their host was not underestimating them. Even Gandalf, an old man in appearance, couldn't escape the fate. The Elf approaching him felt something unusual in Gandalf, and under an instinctive feeling, he took Gandalf's staff but didn't search him further. Perhaps it was because of the intense gaze of Gandalf. The wizard was totally able to scare off someone when he had his mind on it.

Two or three Elves carried their gathered weapons and soon disappeared in the dense trees. The others now set on the work to tie the Dwarves' hands with a lean rope. The rope was woven by some long and resilient fiber, and as the Elf held it to tie up the Dwarves, Dwalin was not happy about it. "You dare tie me!" he said threateningly and though the Elves took away his axe, he still had his own fists, and he wasnt' sorry for using them. The Elf stopped for a second in front of him, and then they both heard Thorin. Thorin was not talking to them, but to the Captain, who spoke to them in Common Speech and commanded the others. "Don't you dare tie us up." He took a step forward and instantly, several arrows were aimed at him. But Thorin didn't recoil. He was shocked for a brief second, but one could read nothing from his countenance. He didn't even do so much as blinking.

"I will offer you my word that we won't fight you, but I cannot say the same if that rope of yours touches any of my men." he stared into the eye of the Elf Caption, undaunted. "The word of the trespassers has no value." he said, and his words were covered by contempt. "And yet I have said it." Thorin didn't give any more word, but the silence and pressure between suggests that they were not done with their combat. The Elf held his gaze long and steady. He was not, of course, threatened by any Dwarf, still less the one unarmed, but he had not met any of them speaking with such decision of his own and subconscious sense of dominion. A trespasser, he surely was, but who he really was the Elf had no idea. He mused about the idea and then spoke almost with amusement in his voice. "Then we shall spare you of it.

"Lead on." he called in a louder voice so the Elves all lowered the bows and began to walk along the road in the woods. The Captain looked at Thorin for one last moment and then leaped to the front of the line.

Gandalf was genuinely glad that Thorin's pride and stubbornness wouldn't budge on this point. He was much worried that he should have to reason with the Elves himself to get ride of the treatment against savages. The Dwarves hadn't caused any damage to the woods surely, and anyone ignorant should be spared from the usual punishment. Even if they deserved punishment, no Elf really tied their captives up in these days. Disarming the captives was an understandable action, but after that the Elves had almost no more threats. The tying up would be nothing more than a humiliation and the showing of status. It was useless and rather unlike the doings of high Elves.

But that, too, confirmed Gandalf's guessing about the identity of these Elves. As they went on,Gandalf was carefully observing the Elves and searching in his memory things useful. These Elves bore characteristic features, but an undiscerning audience would not tell much of them. These Elves moved with incredible agility. In fact, they left behind them hardly a crackle of leaves when they walked about, and their steps were winding as if they were always choosing their path even on the flat ground. They were all black of hair, and their hair was straight and two locks were tied to the back of their heads so that they eye sight was never hindered. The knot was no more than a simple loop and even the supposed Captain had only wider loop. Elves of this age had grown more or less aware of their looks and the pursuit of beauty was ever engraved in their nature. But these had not what Gandalf would call the basic decoration. They had short green cloak which was soundly pinned to fit their waist so wherever they went their garments followed like their own skin. Though Gandalf had no doubt whether these Elvish cloaks would be caught on the branches. Their boots were more like scrapes of leather.

They moved off the main road and into a world of wildness, but the Elves only moved with greater ease, and Thorin could see the shadows on the flanks of them moving with incredible speed. Sometimes he felt the watchful eyes, not from beside or behind, but from above. He thought he once saw an Elf shape on a branch just above the path they were taking, but it soon vanished. Sentinels every where. Some of the Elves would leap far ahead of them, and then paused to wait for the tumbling Dwarves to catch on. They never pushed the Dwarves forward. They just led on and made sure that their captives were loosely but properly circled and were able to follow.

The evening was descending fast and the roots began to take pleasure from the unfamiliar walkers. Dwarves would tumble upon, if not entirely trip over, some root hidden in the shadow and though they muttered curses, the ground would only mock them further by its numerous little tentacles. The mocking maybe well amused, but the mocked was slowly reaching the limit of their patience. Finally, after landing on his fours again, Dwalin growled, "Curse this land! There isn't a more treacherous one!" the Captain stood there by silence, but his gaze was ill and cold. "This land is not wrought for Dwarf feet, but have a care, Master Dwarf, for we are approaching our king's hall. You may pass untied as captive, but a foul mouth shan't pass by all means."

They had come to a narrow clearing in the woods and the twilight peered over the top of the trees and cast golden light on the Captain's face. Just then, Thorin saw the eyes of the Elf. They were no longer dark. Instead, the outer loop of iris became pale and violet , while the inner side darkened and gave out a dreamlike glimmer.

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Author: so the something ancient that I mentioned about was Elves! But I didn't say what kind of Elves right? About the eye thing. I noticed this when I was watching the movie, so I described it more here. About these Elves, of course, I will say more in the next chapter. Hope you all look forward to it! Again, leave me messages if you like it!


	9. Ascending to Moonlight

Author's Note: the ninth Chapter! I grew increasingly excited as I was writing this chapter that I didn't really control well the length. I really wish that I had Thorin's self-control...So I decided to **break this chapter into two**. I should also tell you that I showed a bit of the beloved **Quenya** that I learnt in these days in this chapter. I didn't assert any** translation** right beside that sentence, but you will see it **at the end of this chapter**! Also I will enclose some** explanation for the names** I got for the characters as well as information which you may need to read Tolkien's original work to understand(as if someone didn't!). Anyway, I'll make it really clear so you don't think that I just typed in letters randomly. This is my first try to construct a Quenya sentence and it is extremely easy. Hope you all look forward to it! Now the story continues...

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The Dwarves saw no palace right then. They saw only trees and shadows, but when they did, they would have to admit that they were impressed. They could not think that a structure of this scale could be achieved in the forest.

It was up in the air.

There, at least feet from the ground, was the kingdom in the Forest in the heart of the land. Between the branches, Thorin saw vaguely the wooden and rope stairs. In the joint of the spreading branches, there was the elvish adobe. It seemed to the Dwarves that the actual Elvish chambers were still hidden from their view and all they were seeing right now was platforms for the sentinels and various passages. The structure was shining silver under the moonlight and around a particularly thick oak tree(Or Thorin thought), there was a winding stair leading up. The place that the stair led to was hidden. In front of the structure there was an oval clearing. The bushes around seemed to restrain themselves to preserve such an elegant shape. An Elf was standing on the last but one step, looking at them with calmness and steadiness. He was with different garment: his sleeves were long and wide and he was under a silver cloak, with seemed to be fluctuating in the breeze. He had a hood half on, and the brim of the hood was clear and embroidered with silver lines in a strange fashion. It seemed to be special vines and characters which Gandalf was at a loss trying to decipher.

"So these are the invaders." the Elf on the stair asked the Captain, his eyes swept through the Dwarves and finally rested on Gandalf. "and he was one of them..." he said quietly, musing. The Captain changed his bow to the other hand and walked towards him.

"We spot them lurking over the West Gate. I'm going to put them to the dungeons and await his command." he said with an air of contempt, and his eyes were glimmering even more dangerously in the moonlight. The Elf on the stair didn't look at him, though the Captain was now beside him and watching the Dwarves. He was solemn and calm, but he didn't wait until the Captain finished his sentence and said, "The King has already known about their invasion and he is waiting to see the leader of the company." the Elf's eyes narrowed at the phrase "the leader of the company", more out of amusement and curiosity than out of enmity. Thorin's eyes lifted up sharply at his remark and fixed the Elf with a dead stare. The Elf smiled, lightly. "Our King wants to know the purpose of your intrusion and he gives you his word not to harm you if you bring not malice and ill fate into our land. The rest of the company may go to the chambers we prepared for thee, but it is our King's wish to meet your leader."

The Dwarves were looking at each other, murmuring softly, but their eyes were all on Thorin when he stepped in front to face this wish. "I shall meet your King. But no harm must be done to my people before he made his judgment." The Elf nodded and looked down in a courteous Elvish manner and then stepped aside so Thorin could ascend.

"And his council," Gandalf said in a very affable voice and, feigning to step forward in the manner of a very old man, and looked at the Elf with a smile that he wouldn't be too proud to admit having made. The Elf looked as if he was mildly surprised, but only that. He didn't nod, but said in a tongue that Gandalf knew since a long time ago. "I aran úmë cenë tulielya, mal nai tulielya antuva me alassë!" he said it with such fluency and familiarity that Gandalf wouldn't suspect if the Elf claimed his origin in the West. Gandalf was even more confused. If these Elves spoke the language from the west, why did he knew nothing about them and why on earth would the map betrayed nothing of this place? But Gandalf only nodded in the courteous way and started to follow Thorin upwards. The Dwarves were now a bit uneasy with Thorin and Gandalf gone, but they listened to their King and were led to their "chambers".

Before they went, the Captain said to the messenger in their own strange tongue. "_Why are these Dwarves of such importance that the King should want the meeting of this Dwarf? Besides, he sent you as a messenger._" The last sentence was said with amusement, but the Elf just smiled and went up. All he left was a sentence lighter and softer than the wind through the leaves, "There are other guests, and our King always like a new company."

The Captain smiled and leaped down to follow the other Dwarves. He knew his lord, but he still wondered why he would spare these trespassers from their underground dungeons. Well, the chambers wouldn't grant the Dwarves much freedom anyway, since they could escape from the tree top where the descending to the land would be a suicidal jump into the abyss for these creatures. He looked around the clearing in his usual vigilant way and nodded to several Elf sentinels standing on the tree branches, their body lean and agile among the trees. He sighed and jumped to grass land to look up long the silver stairs. He wondered whether she was in with the King. "Captain," one of his companions called to him, holding back the left Dwarves. "where shall we take them?" he laughed a little and, leaping briskly past the Dwarves, said darkly: "You heard Iordir. The King wants them in the prepared chambers. Lead them to the treetop."

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The stairs were made possibly with the same wood as the Gate they went through in the day. Thorin saw no more Elves except for the messenger and the two guards leading them upwards. The trees were absolutely still, except for the occasional wind that brought the leaves rustling so softly and smoothly. Thorin wasn't worried. He knew that he should be really alarmed by these Elves, but he wasn't. He was confused himself why. These Elves seemed more than capable in fighting, and they probably wouldn't be lesser than Thranduil's followers. But he just wasn't worried, because he had not the choice to be worried. They had to get out and get on with their journey. It was just the question of the means. But even that shouldn't be a problem. Thorin said to himself that he would try to be civil with them, to reason them to let the company go, but he knew that if necessary, he would just have to lead the man to fight their way out of here.

And finally, they reached the top of the stairs. They expanded in width and began to slope down so to form a bridge in the air. Four guards were standing on either side of the broad platform and in the front, Thorin gathered, was the throne for this King in the Forest. Thorin heard the soft sound in that moonlight. It was like an enchantment that for a moment Thorin couldn't recognize the source of the voice. It seemed to be every where, floating in the wind, dripping from the tip of every silver dark green leaves. The throne was under no canopy, and the moonlight enriched the place. But it was so exceedingly bright that Thorin couldn't see the figure on the throne very clearly. But that figure was approaching, and for a brief moment, Thorin was under the illusion that the silver light was following his movement, or so he thought. The messenger they met under the stairs now was in front of them and using his lean fingers to touch above his heart, lowered his head to greet the approaching being. Then this must be the Elf-lord they claimed King, Thorin thought.

Gandalf would have done the same, but he was a foreigner and lord knows what special custom Elves in this country might have. For a brief second, he thought the light resembled that he saw in Lothlorien, under the glory and grace of Celeborn and Galadriel, but then they were so different. In Lothlorien the light was filled with a majestic power, something powerful, yet genial and warm. It was filled with the golden richness of Lothlorien in autumn as well as the silver hue of it in spring. It was already ancient and yet full of joy and life. But the light here was strong, but thin that Gandalf thought(though it sounded quite unbelievable) that he saw darkness in the almost dazzlingly light. Shadow was somehow lurking where the light didn't reach. The light in Lothlorien was so filled with a breathtakingly beautiful sadness, while the feeling here was cold and suspicious. However, Gandalf doubted that this should be any younger than Lothlorien. Now, he could see clearly the King as he was close to them enough and the aura began to dim.

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So, what do you think? Now my explanation for you!

the Quenya sentence I made means: The King didn't see your coming, but (we wish it) that your comming will give us joy and delight.

And about the name. In this chapter you saw only one name: Iordir, the name of that Elf greeting Thorin and his company. This is a particular name for Woodland Elves and the meaning is the Ancient. I thought that because he spoke Quenya, this may actually suit him. Ok, this is only the start. In the next Chapter you will see more of these! If you are a huge fan for Tolkien's story, characters as well as his language, this would be a good story for you to follow! Any comment would be extremely welcome! A (And I'll post the latter half in Labor's Day. Hope you all have a nice holiday with this chapter of Divinity to entertain you!) Next Chapter we will know some more about the Elves...And someone will start to show up...!


	10. Light and Darkness

Author's Note: Happy Labor's Day! Now let's have the latter half of Chapter 9 for entertainment! This Chapter will focus some more on Thorin's character, and also the Elves would be portrayed. Hope you all enjoy it! The explanations are enclosed at the back!

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"My King, the visitors from the West Gate. Terion brought the others to rest. This is the leader of the company." he nodded again and made way for the King.

Thorin lowered his head, but kept his eyes on the King. In front of him, was this Elf-lord. He was cloaked in dark green, and traces of gold was winding to form the vines. Upon his dark locks was his crown, though in the eyes of a Dwarf, it was not so much a throne for a kid. That same silver wood branches were entwined into a loop, bearing gemstones with green, yellow and blue hue. The middle of the crown dipped down and at the joint in the lowest point, there was a single white gem. Its radiance blended in the darkness with the moonlight that it was like a crystal clear fire between the King's brows. The King regarded Thorin and spoke with his lofty voice.

"Welcome, my guests," the Elf was tall, but he tilt his head backwards so he was even more looking down upon Thorin. Thorin didn't move one bit, taking in his greeting without the least traces of warmth and heart-felt welcome. "I'm Lomenil, Lord of this land. I offer you my hospitality, but you came in such an unexpected hour that my guards were rather alarmed. I hope they didn't offend your company. Now, my guests from afar, I'll have your names and purpose for crossing my land."

Thorin only now raised his head but before he could say anything himself, Gandalf spoke, "I thank you for your welcome, my lord. You have reasons to suspect us, but we bring no danger to your realm. We are just a Dwarven company going east to into the mountains to visit the trading company there. This, if I may be allowed to introduce to you, is our company leader, Thorin Oakenshield." Gandalf paused. He had been thinking whether to disclose their true names, but it didn't matter now. Thorin was too proud to live under a peasant's name and of course, in a deep forest like this, they wouldn't be hearing much about the outside world and even less would they care about Dwarves. Though Gandalf was a little concerned since that messenger spoke such "outside" language, he had a feeling that these Elves would rather be in the center of isolation in their nature.

"Thorin Oakenshield..." Lomenil mused over the name, and he seemed to recall something far and unreal in vain. "Dwarves from the west." he paused. "I happen to have other guests, and I wish you to meet them. They are rather from the south. I trust that you must be in need of refreshment. Come, my guests." He turned away and walked over to the end of the platform and sat upon his throne. The throne was a slender and tall chair, which, though decorated with subtle carvings, would hardly be majestic enough for a king. The others followed him and were introduced to chairs around the table before the throne. Thorin noticed that there were two chairs abreast, but he found out soon enough. An she-Elf was looking down upon them all the time silently and was only now moving towards the other chair beside the King. She was hardly queenly, with her slightly curled hair poured down to her waist freely. She bore no crown but a brace of vines, decorated with leaflet shape silver and occasionally yellow gems. Thorin knew that she had her eyes on him all the time. Thorin felt the power of enchantment approaching as the queen moved to the throne, her hand lifted up to hold the King's.

"My Queen, Calassë." the King said and helped her into the seat, though anyone would have little doubt that the queen was not such a fragile creature. Indeed, her moves were perpetuated with a silky agility and solid certainty. "My lord." the queen said and Thorin immediately recognized her voice as that singing moments ago. Not the sound exactly, but that sense of mystery and remoteness. The queen only looked at her king for a brief moment before her steady gaze landed once more on Thorin. Only this time, she saw a pair of dark grey eyes staring back at her. Calassë felt the corners of her mouth lifted as she looked into this stranger's eyes. Her power had already fallen on these two strangers and they knew not. But she hadn't encountered many people who would not flinch under her gaze. Especially in the night, when she knew that the power of Isil, as her remote kinsmen called it, or Moon, as those of her fairer and even more noble kinsmen said, was at work in her nature that her eyes now held an undeniable power and intimidation over these strangers. But this Dwarf didn't. Calassë had never cared much about them or anything too outside her Forest of power, but the curiosity was slightly raised in her heart and she knew that there was more to the foreign intruders.

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Thorin endured the questioning with what he thought the humiliation and suspect that wouldn't be related to the King under the Mountain even in the lowest days of Erebor. He answered the King's questions about his residence, his purpose in traveling and destination. He didn't feel his heart pace change much when he conjured up those fake information, and he wasn't nervous when Lomenil went into the details. Thorin knew the Dwarf residence better than anyone and he talked about the different places like he lived there all his life. But he was angry at himself, ashamed that he couldn't tell the true purpose of their journey. That they were going to the most significant assembly of Dwarf leaders ever since their East Kingdom was taken, that they were heading to the majestic relics that survived, through fire and blood, the ages of Middle-Earth. He resented the lie that he and his company were just a bunch of ignorant, reduced people, who were captured and questioned by hidden nomads in the trees, ready to toy with them by their petty power over a forgotten land.

And all the time, he knew that the queen was interrogating him and him alone in another way. He felt an apparent pressure on his heart that threatened to crush the truth out of him, to confuse his consciousness so that he no longer could tell the difference between truth and lie. You couldn't be more pathetic if you succumb to the stare of an Elf. Thorin told himself and a wave of hatred was swelling in his heart, testing his self-control and his pride. He had no sword or ax, but he could envision the life of these mocking creatures withering under the ruthless, wrathful, shining blade of his sword, so real, so cruel, so right.

Thorin bore the questioning, but he wouldn't bend his honor. He answered much, but he wouldn't be treated like a prisoner who answered whatever he was asked, and he maintained his air, and wrestled the freedom of choice with Lomenil. He knew well that in truth, he was no more than a prisoner, but what right had this Elf to pry into everything as if he had a right to know and he was in possession of everything Thorin had? Lomenil was also testing, guessing out the identity of his unexpected visitor. There were times, when Lomenil was pressing too far, that Thorin would said between his teeth, "and that, I'm afraid has nothing to do with your land and your concern, Lord." the pride in his voice was so evident and that honor so clear that Lomenil hesitated to press on. Thorin, however, could feel the blood circling faster in his veins. He still acknowledged this Elf as a Lord, even when he had every right not to do so. Occasionally, when he wasn't looking at Lomenil straight in the eye, Thorin would snap his gaze to Calassë, who ever appeared to be in charm and tranquility. Calassë, too, hesitated under his gaze. She seldom met anyone who would not only endure her knowing gaze with such force and steadiness, but also seek for it himself. For several times, Calassë felt that he had almost wrestled the power of intimidation from her, and it shocked her how much, as the interrogation lasted, resentment and majesty came into that pair of eyes. But this forest was her kingdom and she was sitting on the throne, not this Dwarf, however fierce his will could be. And this Thorin had her King to withstand.

Gandalf didn't do much talking. He only answered something that he was sure Thorin's pride and blood couldn't tolerate. He was even more a spectator, watching an invisible battle when it could do him no harm. He was observing their moves, their talking, and he had a secret smile on his face when he felt certain what nature these Elves belonged to. And he was amazed that he could ever encounter such Elves. Thorin bore better than he previously thought, and most of his fears that Thorin would disclose their true story were gone. He thought he had never seen Thorin more like a Dwarf King before. It was ironic, but Gandalf had seen what a King truly was and would be like when he was enslaved.

"This land is not for visitors. And we have even less Dwarf ones." Lomenil said as if he was concluding. "but such it is that you are. I promise to treat you with honor and I wish you to see one of the other guests I have here. Perhaps gathered knowledge would shed more light on our conversation." he then turned to one of the Elves standing by and murmured something in their own language. Gandalf's heart sank. They may not know much about the outside world, but the King's guests might. And Lomenil was calling upon someone else to break their lies.

Thorin was not unaware of Lomenil's attention. His anger subsidized momentarily as he began to think of new ways to get him and his people out of this.

Footsteps were heard, and Thorin snapped his head towards that direction, another bridge on the left different from the path by which they came. As he looked sideways, he caught sight of a figure not so far way from the throne. It was a figure in the darkness where the moonlight couldn't pierce the canopy, but even then, Thorin knew it was a she-Elf, a lean figure in the darkness. Something about her that Thorin felt was different and she had something in her that was even more... Implicit and secretive than that of the queen. Thorin couldn't see her face, but he knew that she was looking at him.

The other visitor was brought, and as the new comer stood in the moonlight, Thorin couldn't help feeling the shudder down his spine. "You." he hissed, too inaudible for any audience to hear this exclaim of recognition.

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There! What are your opinions about these Elves?

Lomenil is a name that I derived myself from the Quenya word "lomë" which means night or twilight. and "nil" is a common ending for the Elvish names. Calassë is also derived from Quenya Cala, which means light. Though ssë in Quenya most evidently means the Locative Case, here I only treat it as part of the name with no real meaning. Or you can interpret it as "(the lady) in the light". Anything suits you!

I derived these two names from Quenya because I thought Quenya words bear such elegance and majesty that it would do every well as the name for the king and the queen. Hope you like it!

The name for the Captain: Terion. is another typical name for Woodland Elves. (though I thought it looks extremely like Tirion, name of the Elven city in Aman!) it has the meaning of straightness and I think it can relate to his characters. Anyway, he will show up more in the following chapters and I'll leave you to decide what his characteristics are!

When Calassë said Isil was how her remote kinsmen called the moon, she was relating to Quenya speakers. And as for the fairer and more noble ones who called it Moon, those of you who have read Silmarillion as fervently as I did should remember Moon was the name given by the old and noble Vanyar. (I have finished that book for the second time and I love it more than ever!)

Hope you enjoy everything! A


	11. Merchants?

Author's Note: So, who was that mysterious man that controlled their chances to live? In this Chapter you will see more. I said I'm introducing characters and I am. Hopefully you'll see the figure of another fascinating character! Or should I say, are you ready for some more female characters? lol. Hope you really enjoy this chapter! A

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They were now exposed to Lomenil. The guest of his, could possibly know everything about them. More, he could know Thorin's name, and then they wouldn't be able to cover themselves in those lies. This man said himself that he liked to wander far and wide around the land. He said he didn't want to be pinned down by anyone. He said that he let go of the woman of his life because he simply didn't want to abandon the wide land. This man, Thorin despised, but now he was going to put Thorin to death with a few words of his. Walking over from that left hand path and now standing in the moonlight, was the man that Thorin and Kili saw that night in the forest. That man from the South. That man who was said to grow attachment with a girl and was compelled to lead his company through a more perilous route. That man, Emroy of Escara.

He hadn't changed much, though without his big weapons. There was the small blade he hung on his belt. It was made to suit the taste for exquisiteness, not for battles, but Thorin could see that it was at least of Dwarven origin. The broad blade and the barely visible runes. Seemed like the Elves in the woods weren't all that fond of steal anyway. He was more properly dressed than he was in the woods, and he seemed to be a really good state. He looked at Thorin and Gandalf with a frown and a smile, and then he hastened over to the throne and paid his respect. "My Lord." He said and then stood watching the King and the Queen, he had never seen them so different from what they usually were. The King, as always, was grave with mockery, and the Queen her usual gracefulness, only that they both seemed a bit agitated. Emroy knew not why, but if the reason was this Dwarf and this old men, then they must have been something. Especially the Queen.

Emroy looked now at the unexpected visitor. Emroy thought it quite natural for all the people to stare at someone who just entered the room, but the thing he saw in their eyes were so different that he wondered for what reason really, he was summoned. The eyes of that old man and the Dwarf was grave, even fearful, but there was more alarm in the old one's eyes. The Dwarf, however, wasn't so easy to read. His emotions were all written in his eyes and Emroy saw worry, contempt and...resentment? He had never met him before, but according to the way the Dwarf looked at him, it was as if they had an ugly history. And the old man. Emroy suddenly felt that he shouldn't think that he was just an old man. In appearance, maybe, but he had such an air of nobility that normal man wouldn't possess or the passing of time would have long ago worn away. And he had a staff. The design of it convinced Emroy that it wasn't just a walking stick. He was a wizard. Things were getting better and better. On the other side, the King seemed to be relieved that he came, but Queen Calassë looked as if she was too much intrigued by something else that she didn't really notice his presence. This would be so interesting that Emroy almost thought that their detour in this Forest was worthwhile after all.

They departed indeed the next morning after resting in the shallow part of the woods and went straight southeast, but they didn't go far before they were attacked by a swarm of Orcs. Emroy and his companions fought their way through and winded their way northwards until they came upon Lomenil's dominion. Some of his men were only lightly wounded, but then the guards in the woods already came and they finished off the Orc squad. It wasn't a big squad, but Emroy was confused that the Orcs should go this far in the land. The northern climate agreed with them and the Misty Mountains in the East would provide them shelter and lairs, but in this part of the country? Even a traveler like Emroy was curious about their driving force. Then the Elves invited the company to go and join the King, Emroy's friend, and to relieve their burden, took away most of their heavy weapon. "I thought I could keep this one," Emroy tightened his grip on the hilt of that small letter-opener but a smile was effusing on his face. "It can barely cut my finger. Besides, I'm afraid that it would get lost in those big ones." Emroy nodded to the other weapons and gave a wink. The guard was not too happy about this, but it was small even for an Elf's standard, so with a tight but courteous smile, Emroy was allowed to keep that. Lomenil and Emroy knew each other for quite a history and that was during the earlier years of Emroy when he was less concerned about his safety than about the excitement of the wild land. He came across the land by accident and was taken by the guards, but Lomenil had let him go and even established what would remotely resemble friendship with this human. But Emroy never really trusted the Elves, let alone dark ones like those he saw in the middle of nowhere. He was more than a little bit reluctant when re-entering this land, but he had no choice.

"My lord, how can I be of assistance?" he asked politely, not wanting this embarrassing staring and guessing to continue. When he asked this, he also noticed that figure which Thorin took notice a short while ago. Emroy couldn't help smiling when he identified that whom that lean figure belonged to. Of course she had to be here when such an interesting thing happened.

Lomenil looked at his guests once more, "My friend, this is our new guests, who I'm sure the guards must have told you about. Allow me." Lomenil stood up and walked to the table and Thorin instantly was on his feet. "Thorin Oakenshield, leader of the new company, our guests from the west going east to visit trading company there." Thorin and Gandalf should be glad that the moonlight was casting everything in a silver glimmer, or Lomenil would see the ashen but then a little bit red face of Emroy. Luckily for Thorin, Emroy too was a man of control and though he felt his world swirling and his heart pounding wildly, he didn't let it show. Though a word was too strong for him to remain in his throat and he couldn't help a gasp, "Thorin." this earned a sharp and alarmed gaze from Thorin and though Gandalf didn't do such thing to attract the attention of Lomenil, he felt his heart contracted and his body ready to fight.

"I have a poor knowledge of what is not within my control of realm, "Lomenil said, but that obvious sense of pride betrayed his true nature. "But you, my friend, is a well traveled man and thus, may shed some light as for our new visitor."His voice was quiet but full of triumph and suspicion. "Now, my friend, what did your experience tell you as about our friend."

Emroy was looking at Thorin with disbelief and he hardly registered what Lomenil was saying. He couldn't believe it. It was like watching the stories come to life and you yourself walking into the story. Emroy was curious about the history and peoples, and since he was young he heard tales about Dwarves and Elves, and a particular one named Thorin. Those stories were for the most part no more than nonsense from the blurry mind of wanderers, and he only gathered enough pieces of information to form the whole probable story. He had heard there was a Dwarf warrior of royal blood traveling westward and dwelling in the mountains somewhere. And he had heard about the history of his coming from a Lonely Mountain in the East. Could it be real that this Dwarf Prince was standing right in front of him? Even if that was true, he was concealing it, for Lomenil detected something suspicious without really knowing what was wrong. Even the most perspicacious Queen didn't warn her king. Emroy marveled now at the extent of ignorance of these people.

Emroy looked at Thorin and the King for a long time with inner battles. He could tell the King that they were lying about their identities and traveling was not the usual errand for another king. He looked at Thorin's expression and with a frown on his brows, smiled as if sharing a private joke with this serious warrior. Thorin was ready, to fight and to die. This was how everything was going to end. With one word, with a negative confirmation the Elves would surely cut his throat and kill all his companions. He would not only fail his father and grandfather, but also Dis, his people at home, and his kinsmen who traveled to the southern halls only to find out that their host was killed already.

"No, my lord," Emroy finally broke the silence and the atmosphere was like a pinned balloon and all the expectations were no more. Lomenil was not pleased. He had a disturbing feeling in him and he hated to be proven over-reacted. Calassë was not watching Thorin anymore. She was watching Emroy with interest in her eyes. Emroy was not telling the entire truth, but he concealed it well. Not that Calassë couldn't detect anything. This piqued her interest even more. She knew this Dwarf was not some random one, and she was further convinced so when Emroy, who was usually an honest man, denied to give further knowledge. "I have not heard of his name, but it is true the Dwarves have trading business over the land." he paused, tearing his eyes off the curious Dwarf, Emroy again looked at Lomenil and lowered his voice, "Our guests were true and honest about the home, my Lord."

Lomenil nodded rigidly and his face was almost twisted unnaturally. "Very well, just as I would wished for. Come, let us take more refreshment before Iordir guides you to your resting chamber." Lomenil mentioned to the Elf beside and after a short while, trays of goblets and wine were brought on the table and Lomenil raised his wine in an absent-minded manner before drinking slowly and began conversation with his guests.

Thorin was confused. Why did this stranger did this for him? Thorin had no doubt that this man knew about them, and according to that astonished look he gave him, he knew very well about what had befallen on the Dwarves and the ridiculousness of their explanation that they were plainly visitors and traders. He probably knew about their history and their glory in the Lonely Mountain. But he said nothing. Thorin was drinking out of manners, but his mind was full and busy in finding a reason that he barely notice the flavor of the Elvish wine. However, he saw that the Man was ever since staring at him, only raised his head once or twice to answer the king. Emroy had a curious gaze, and Thorin could read his hidden message: Were you really Thorin? Why were you concealing about your identity. What exactly were you up to? But Thorin didn't say anything to Emroy.

Now Thorin caught that glimpse of the figure he saw earlier. She had obviously stepped more into the light and now Thorin could see her appearance clearly. It was an Elvish maiden, with youth still radiating through her being and still immune to the sadness of the passing of ages. Thorin couldn't judge whether she was beautiful, for he was neither used to nor keen on being in contact with She-elves and he wondered whether he should employ the Elvish standard to view all their things. And it had been a long time since Thorin last complimented any lady of her beauty. In fact, Thorin didn't recall ever having done such a thing. There weren't enough women among all Dwarves already and it would be a lavish thing to try and find a beauty. Did Dwarves even have a standard for beautiful Dwarven women? Thorin didn't know, but right now this woman(or girl, which would seem to fit her age more properly.) was probably considered so in this forest. There was an air about her that Thorin thought he could look at with respect and interest.

She was of the average Elf height and though not outstandingly thin, seemed fit and capable. She was still not near the party and made no attempt to come closer. Thorin knew she was looking at him and he was quite convinced that even if the King was lied to by Emroy's strange words, this maiden wasn't impressed all that much. Her eyes were shining pale and her face was expressionless. She looked more like a guard than a music maiden, with the dark garment that much resembled Terion's tightly around her torsel. Her lips were tightly pressed and Thorin noticed her way of standing: upright like an arrow filled with pride and surety. Her head was lowered in a humble manner, but Thorin knew then she was not just any random Elf.

The refreshment taking was soon over and Lomenil sent his guests to rest. Thorin and Gandalf was leaving together when Lomenil said with a rather curious and amused smile in his voice: "my guest, we would treat you with our best hospitality possible and we would not be mean about chambers." his words were soft and gentle, but Thorin knew the instant he opened his mouth that this was just a poor and unnecessary excuse to separate his prisoners in case of their plots. Gandalf was led away from the stairs they came by, but Thorin was led by another into the higher place through another set of intricate stairs. The Elves were moving through with swiftness and absolute silence, and the woods seemed to echo with only the Dwarvish metal boots. The guard would looked back at Thorin and led on, urging him when Thorin tarried too long looking down over the hand rail. There was a labyrinth out there. Thorin was not rested with his company and he tried to ask for their information with no result.

"Go along this bridge and you are in your chamber." the guard said and left. Thorin was left on one of the platforms connected by a string bridge. There was an Elvish chamber on the other platform. It was inlaid within the tree bough and the stems winded around to hug the chamber safely in their embrace. Thorin looked back at the place his Elf guide disappeared. All sounds of living things died down. The power of the wine was finally getting on to him that Thorin thought all around him was glowing and illuminated. The slender Elvish lanterns hung over the entrance and gave off a pale light. Stairs winded around the tree, leading to the chamber.

This was not the place to stay. Thorin wanted to know what Gandalf really knew about these creatures and depending on the knowing look that Gandalf gave when they parted in front of Lomenil, Thorin would rather believe he had some ideas already. He sighed. Whatever he had to do, it was not for tonight. Thorin looked at the way out once more and headed down the bridge.

Just then, a flash was in front of him. Thorin thought he was hallucinating, but he stepped back and he immediately drew out the knife that he hid in his cloak. The blade darted forward against that blur instantly and that cut would be really ugly if it hit anything. But no, no blood was spilled. But the threat was still there. Thorin clenched his teeth and that hatred was upon him again. So they planned to kill him here? They planned to clear their land of any others in such a despicable manner? That blur, Thorin now recognized, was an Elf, one with incredible agility. The Elf leaped back to avoid Thorin's blow and jumped up and caught the branch of a tree. The Elf swung around the branch and landed behind Thorin without a sound. Thorin swung around and thrust his knife forward again. This time the Elf took off the bow he hung on his back and used it to defend and attack. His moves were clear, and though his blow wasn't powerful enough to contend with Thorin, his long bow rendered him such advantage that Thorin soon found his knife a little bit out of use.

Thorin cursed in his heart when the Elf wouldn't directly contend with him. He felt that the Elf was always looking for shortcuts and tricks to bring him down. "Who are you?" Thorin growled the words and broke free from the Elf's bow. He was too busy fighting that he didn't notice earlier that the Elf was veiled. His nose and all the face below was hidden behind black veil and his slightly curled locks streamed down. Between the hair and veil, Thorin saw a pair of eyes burning ice and fire. " Who are you!" Thorin said again, this time with more authority and viciousness. No answer. The archer attacked again, but he only leaped over the branches and stood steadily like a statue. They stayed silent for a moment before the Elf moved his hand to his left ear to take off the veil. The veil was dropped and behind that, was a perfect, knowing and mysterious smile. Thorin realized his mistake and the confusion which had been accumulating in his heart reached a point he didn't think was possible. It was not a he, but a she. Standing there with her slender bow was the Elf maiden Thorin saw hiding in the shadow during the King's interrogation. "Who the hell are you?" Thorin half breathed half growled. The Elf heeded him not. Instead, that perfect smile on her face grew even wider and her eyes were glowing her exultation. "So, a trading man?"

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Author: so, a merchant? If Emroy covered for Thorin's company, who was this person so ready to expose their identity? Find out more in the next chapter! Thank you all for reading and please let me know what you think about this!


	12. A Burning Spirit

Author's Note: So in this Chapter we will see the interaction between the Elf-maiden and Thorin, looking forward to it? Here we go!

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The last sound of the fighting went away with the wind and all fell silent just like the forest had always been. Upon a, elegant bridge in the forest, stood an astound Dwarf, and above him upon the branches, was probably the most beautiful Elvish maiden in this forest. The Elf maiden leaped down from the silver branches and landed soundless on the bridge. Thorin barely felt the bridge quiver. Thorin didn't take his eyes off her. This was the least expected, but he somehow felt that the purpose of this not so pleasant encounter was neither to kill him nor issued from the orders of the King. There was an air of rebellion in this woman who Thorin just knew that she wasn't the one to take orders. The woman was wearing that slightly amused smile ever since she took off her veil, and now she arched an eye brow to address Thorin again with that question: so, a merchant? Thorin knew that he shouldn't have fought, and this had already exposed his identity, but he still had a chance. "Who are you?" he said, with some threat in his voice in, of course, the appropriate amount.

The Elf maiden laughed lightly, and her voice was like silver bells ringing, "Who am I? Is it such a Dwarvish custom to pile up questions? You haven't answer me." she walked towards Thorin a few steps. "Are you truly what you claimed you were, a simple merchant on the trading trip?"

"You were listening in the King's hall." it wasn't really a question. Another version of the request upon the maiden telling her name. "It was the King's hall, not exactly a forbidden place." the Elf maiden said and broke the eye contact with Thorin for a while. She leaned upon the rail of the bridge and looked up through the leaves into the starlight, her eyes bright and pale. There was a light smile on her lips, which seemed to disappear when she refocused on Thorin, "I know you are not a random merchant and you need not lie to me. The King and the Queen might be blinded by your undaunted manner, but it is no disguise to me. It only proved one thing," she approached again and Thorin felt the compelling force to step back to take his position. "That you are not for trading." the Elf maiden ended her malicious approach with such an unimportant statement and that ghost of smile again emerged upon her perfect lips.

"But that left me wondering: what is a Dwarf on a special mission doing here?" She flashed him a smile, which could only be generated from genuine brilliance and intelligence. Sensing no response from Thorin, the she-Elf changed her tongue. "the King may not yet know anything, but the moment his doubt is confirmed by another perspective, do you think you and your company will still be invited in these chambers?" she spun around as if hearing some unwelcoming sound. The forest was still as ever, but the Elves were so much better than both Dwarves and Men in sensing subtle things. "I'm not as surprised as you are to find this place closely watched." Thorin said sarcastically, and that woman must have sensed the bitterness in his speech, and she whipped her head around, a film of accusation burning in her pale irises. "This is not the place to talk," she said rigidly, and she gazed at Thorin for a long time before she spoke softly, "follow me."

The Elf-maiden led Thorin down the tree to the ground through another set of stairs. The stairs were more closely spinning around trees, but they were much narrower and for some places gaps were opening widely that Thorin had to risk his life leaping over to follow this unknown Elf maiden. Finally, they came to a place rather hidden. It was under a long slope with a large rock hanging over. Nearby there was a tree with spreading branches. On the branches were laces made of small crystals, and under their feet was a small pool like a violet mirror. It must have been some Elvish design that had shaped the crystals, for they were almost giving off a soft light on their own. The Elf-maiden leaped over to the trees and she lifted the crystals and held the jewel close to her face to carefully study it. Thorin's eyes swept through the surroundings quickly before he decided the only thing that could do him harm was this living Elf, who seemed right at the moment quite enjoying herself with this marvelous treasure. Her eyes were filled with love and joy and a childish marvel. "What is this place?" Thorin asked.

The Elf-maiden lifted her head and as she looked back at Thorin, her eyes seemed to carry the mysterious light of the jewel with them. "this place belongs to me, and this tree contains my collection of starlight." she said with the pride of a child displaying her favorite toy. Her seriousness returned only seconds later "This is the place where we can talk. Now you can tell me what you are up to through this forest." "I thought you were listening in the King's Hall," Thorin retorted, only to earn a hard flash of those pale and burning eyes. "We have business in the East and I do not think it other people's business to know our destination nor exact purpose. We trespass quite accidentally in this wood land, and if your guards weren't so keen on falling down upon us we would have left this place long ago. You kingdom, as you may also know, is eluding the knowledge of most and even you would not think that anyone could be so interested in invading nothingness and natural landscape?" the Elf maiden laughed. "Very well, I heard this in the King's Hall. But you are not heading to the Iron Mountains, are you? Your route seemed to be a bit distracted to the South. You said that you were from the Blue Mountains. Though that means little to me, it seemed that you are travelers eager to get south without losing your way in the plain. And I've seen your weapons. Do you still want to convince me that even Dwarf merchants carry something so special?" the Elf maiden pulled a knife our of her cloak and that knife shone brightly under the "light crystals". It was one of Fili's weapons, made into a slight curve with blue-gray steel and light stones were carved and set into the hilt. It was exquisitely made and though was nothing like the heavy things, was full of careful and reasonable design. Fili had always been keen on the smoldering chambers. But Thorin knew, from the resting place of her eyes, that she was not talking about the smithing work. Her slender fingers brushed pass the edge of the hilt and turned the blade under the light so that even Thorin, standing a distance away, could see what was really interesting to her. The whole blade was shining, but right on the hilt and the middle part of the blade, there were shadows. Some places were dented and Thorin knew that Fili wasn't all that interested in the ancient knowledge for nothing. He had put Dwarf runes on the blade.

"I'm not a master in language, but I gather these lost characters were not carved into so new a blade for nothing?" the Elf maiden smiled and went back examining the blade. She was attracted by this mystery and the last time she was attracted like this, several ancient Men was wandering through their territory. They were nothing like the diminished men she occasionally saw in these days. They were skilled in language and weapons, and they were both in stature and intelligence more like her and other residents in the forest. The Kings of Men. She remembered this had been how they had called themselves. But never since then had she been drawn so much. Not even when a young man bold and alone went into the land and acclaimed himself proudly to be Emroy of Escara of the South.

Thorin breathed and braced himself. "we are going south. To what end, you would have to find some other weaker man to tell you." she listened and knew she couldn't get more from this man. His voice was forever serious, but this last statement had to be really the last. The determination was unbreakable and she knew that Dwarf would talk no more before she killed him. She breathed and walked over to Thorin. "I think that would be quite unnecessary." she extended her hand and offered him the blade, safe in the scabbard. "take it as a token." Thorin was bewildered. What was this woman trying to do? "a token for what?" he asked quietly, but tightened his grasp on the weapon. "a token for a deal." she said with a light tone. "I will find a way for you to get out of here, you and your company. But there is one thing I want guarantee." she was now walking among the hanging down laces of crystals when she suddenly turned to Thorin with a meaningful smile. "I want to come with you."

"no." Thorin said without any hesitation. What was this woman thinking, going on errand with strangers? And he wouldn't ever consent to this. Concealing the information of their destination was a must, let along stopping a potential enemy to go with him. The denial didn't bother the girl at all. "I know you won't say yes to this. Not after you so firmly denied me the knowledge of the route of your travel. I need you to direct me to the Misty Mountains and I will follow you no more." she had always wanted to go out, but was, as always, restricted by the King's orders. But she wanted to go there for a particular reason. "Why?" Thorin asked with a frown. What could this Elf want in the Misty Mountains? Things were pretty deserted over there. The Elf maiden smiled and Thorin once again saw that glimpse of light in her eyes. "You are a Dwarf. You tell me what to see in the Misty Mountains." Thorin breathed the word out with a senseless mixture of emotions. Confusion, worry, vigilance and a dull ache from the past were dominating him. "Moria."

"Yes," the Elf maiden beamed in front of him. "but not quite. Not all correct. Eregion, to be exact. No one in this forest has ever been there." Thorin shook his head. "That is impossible. You cannot see Eregion now. That place was long ago deserted and things that once were are nothing now. Eregion was nothing but a name in history." Thorin knew about this ancient name because of the shared history it had with Moria, but even for Thorin, Eregion was no more than a blur in this history and he doubted whether this Elf had a period of life when Eregion was still alive. He hated this, knowing that a living thing is probably over thousands of years old. It was like talking to a relic, a stretched and flimsy shadow over the ages. "I knew that," she tossed a sharp look to Thorin. "I am determined to go there, if only to see the past of glory. And I need your company to ward off the scums from the North." she said with such distaste that Thorin didn't doubt it that she was referring to the Orcs. She went on, "Emroy was attacked by a squad of them and he said he has seen traces of them moving South on his travel around the North." Thorin nearly grinned contemptuously. "The Misty Mountains won't be any better. If Eregion and Moria are anything left, they have become lairs of foul Orcs and Goblins. They have plundered the halls and treasures and are caking filth upon them. It was no place to go." Thorin didn't know why he was doing this. The deal this woman was offering was probably the only chance that they made it out of this place quickly, and he was trying to dissuade her? This would create problems, but Thorin knew it was only the right thing to do to keep one from those hells. He resented Orcs, Goblins and Elves, but for different reasons and he thought even the Elves didn't deserve to be suffocated by the evil there.

"that is not your concern." the woman said with the sharpest look and Thorin thought that the color of her eyes was in accord with her mood and temper. Like now, when she was exasperated or being stubborn, her eyes were pale, almost transparent and that pale fire suddenly stopped, changed into sheer intensity. There was a spirit burning in her, and Thorin could see that it was burning her inside out. Before long, she would change from being propelled by this fire to being enslaved and tortured by it. "my destination and purpose are nobody else's concern." she snapped with his own words and he suddenly felt that he understood her a little better. "I'm the only one who will consent and respect your eagerness to be invisible. I'm your only hope in this forest now." her tone hardened, but Thorin could feel that she was beginning to reduce to that stretched, flimsy shadow. She was also eager for him to consent. He wasn't the only one worried about not being able to get out of this forest.

Thorin stared into her eyes for a long moment. "How will you lead us out of the forest?" the Elf maiden smiled triumphantly and that confidence and brilliant intelligence were once again in her eyes. She smiled her perfect smile, "we go under the forest." Thorin frowned. "the land was swarmed with guards and you cannot possibly thinking about all the company sneak under your Elvish eyes." the Elf maiden smiled again, this time with much playfulness in her eyes. "Who said we have to go above the ground?" at that moment, Thorin thought he could see what this threatening girl really was like. All he still needed to know was, why?

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Author: I do love the spirit in her! It was so exciting writing about the interaction but the scenario did take me some time. In this chapter I am again borrowing Tolkien's story about the Numenoreans and thus, I gave you a little hint on how ancient these Elves might probably be! The reference to Eregion is also borrowed completely from Tolkien and for those of you who have read the Silmarillion carefully, it might be easier to understand why Eregion was related closely to the Dwarves. I have always loved history and those details in Tolkien's world. So, the female character's identity is still not revealed... Hopefully you will find some more information in the next chapter. It looks like Thorin is taking an interest anyway! Please leave any comments and express your thoughts for this story! Oh, and I here send a special thanks to all the followers of this story and those who added this story to their favorite list. You guys are amazing! A


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